


As My Lady Commands

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff, Princess Belle, Romance, Sir Rumplestiltskin, Slow Burn, Smut, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Rumplestiltskin accidentally slays a dragon, he is rewarded with knighthood. But with war on the horizon and the Dark One under the control of their enemy, an attempt on her life forces Princess Belle to flee her kingdom with only the reluctant knight Sir Rumplestiltskin to protect her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dragon Slayer

**Author's Note:**

> So I know this Sir Rumple thing is going to be done to death, but it's pretty great and I had to try my hand at it. My Sir Rumple is not an intentional hero. He's more like spinner!Rumple who accidentally became a knight, sometimes he's a woobie, sometimes he's braver than he thinks he can be. This is my first fic in this fandom and for this pairing in ages (I have old stuff posted on LJ, lol). Any comments or critiques are appreciated. There will be smut eventually. I don't know how many chapters this will be total. The outline is sitting at 15 right now. We'll see how it goes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple totally, accidentally might have slayed a dragon. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banner by me!

The screams of the soldiers were still ringing in Rumplestiltskin’s ears and the smell of their burned flesh made his stomach lurch. He swallowed hard, his throat dry from fear and the intense heat of the cavern. The rock dug into his shoulder blades, but he pressed tighter against it, the sharp obsidian the only barrier between him and certain doom. He took a shaky breath and prayed to every god he could think of to just let him crawl out of this miserable cave alive.

Everything had gone silent after the last man collapsed, writhing in agony for a long moment just a few feet away from where Rumplestiltskin was hiding. The silence was almost worse than the screams for it meant that he could not tell where the dragon was in the chamber, or if it was still there at all. Perhaps it had gone back into its den further in the cave.

He held his left arm to his body, trying to ignore the stabbing pain that rippled from his elbow to his hand. It was too dark to tell how bad the bleeding was, but it felt like it had slowed. His hand was sticky where it was drying and he flexed his fingers. He was just thankful everything was still attached.

Chancing a peek around the edge of the rock, he saw that the dragon had turned away and moved to the far side of the cavern, its tail twitching above the floor. He thought if he could be quiet enough that he could just slip back out the way they had came. The horses should still be outside, unless they had heard the dragon’s roar and the screams of their former riders, and broken free of the ropes and fled. He let out the breath he was holding and moved back to his hiding place.

It would be a long walk back to Avonlea without a horse, but it would be worth it if he escaped with his life. Surely no one could call him a coward for running from a dragon? He hoped not. He didn't want to be like his father.

He shifted, lowering a hand to the scabbard at his side and found it empty. Cursing silently, he looked around for his sword and found the handle to his left with nothing but a mangled bit of steel hanging off the end. Fighting back the urge to retch his stomach empty as well, he crawled to the nearest of the fallen men, looking for any viable weapon. There was a sickening crunch as he moved the body, turning it to the side to see what was underneath. The man’s arm broke off, the metal armor on his hand having melted to the floor.

He searched two more bodies, picking his way carefully across the room, minding the slippery, sharp black rock that jutted up here and there. He was almost to the mouth of the cave, when he found the body of their captain. Clutched in the dead man’s hand was a sword.

 _Of course,_ he thought. They were always standing at the back of the line, these so called heroes.

Rumplestiltskin pried at the charred hand as carefully as he could, but three fingers still snapped off and crumbled. He winced and slid the sword free. There was nothing to be done about the bodies. There was no way to get them out of the cave and away from the dragon, and even if he did what would really be left of any of them? A few piles of black, acrid smelling ash was nothing to send back to a widow and fatherless children.

He would know.

He moved to lift the sword, but it scraped over the top of the captain’s helmet making a terrible, piercing sound that echoed around the chamber. His hopes for escape sunk to the bottom of his boots and he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, the searing heat that would roast him where he stood as it had his brothers in arms. He heard the dragon breathe, a low, deep rumble. Then the floor shook. Indeed the whole mountain was probably rattling as the creature moved.

When Rumplestiltskin looked over his shoulder he saw one large red eye peering at him. Hot smoke clouded his vision as the dragon reared back, a the shuddering of the cave made him fall to his knees. He was in a corner between two stalagmites and the beast was between him and the exit. There was no where to go. He looked away, unable to bear seeing the flames rush towards him in his final moments, and raised the sword in front of him. If nothing else he would die with a weapon in his hands, pointed at his foe, not running away and stumbling through the muck of the Marchlands like his father.

The heat built around him, the tremors increased until he was sure his brain was bouncing off the insides of his skull and his crooked teeth would rattle loose. He felt a great weight bearing down on him, and he fell flat to the ground, crying out as his damaged arm bent awkwardly beneath his body. There was a deafening roar in his ears, both from the dragon and his heart, and it surprised him that he could barely tell the difference.

A moment later, everything went black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At first, there was nothing.

Nothing. No sound, no tremors, not even the drying, scalding heat of the cave. Rumplestiltskin blinked, then took a breath, and came to the slow realization that he was… alive.

Confused, he lifted his head from the floor and tried to stand, but couldn't even get to his knees. There was a crushing weight pressed against his back, keeping him pinned and making all of his breaths shallow and painful. If he stayed like this he wouldn't last long. He shifted his good arm out from under his body and braced it on floor, pushing against the weight as he rolled to the side. Blissfully, the weight moved as well, and he was free.

He lay on his back for several moments, taking deep, filling breaths. Pushing to sit up, he rubbed his eyes and his face, and looked down at himself. He was whole, save for his left arm, and covered in something sticky and dark. But all of that seemed to pale in comparison to what he could have been. Still confused, he turned his head and saw his sword lying next to him, but when he tried to pick it up, he found it stuck.

He pushed himself to his feet and gasped.

The dragon was lying half on its side where he had just been, his sword sticking out of it’s neck. The sticky substance covering him was the thick, black blood of the dragon.

The dragon.

The dragon was dead.

He’d slain a dragon.

_Oh, gods!_

Everything went black again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Some time later, Rumplestiltskin woke up for the second time in the middle of the dragon’s cave.

This time he felt considerably less fear.

_I slayed the dragon!_

A loud, and uncharacteristic whoop escaped his lips, and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, holding himself very still until he was sure there weren't any other monsters lurking about to eat him. Taking another long, shocked look at the dragon, he bent down and yanked hard on the sword, pulling it free. More thick, dark blood splattered over his face and chest, but he didn't care. Coming out of the cave covered in dragon’s blood was a sign of his victory, albeit accidental.

He picked his way through the bodies, and around the enormous mass of the dragon, to the cave entrance. Then he remembered something the old spinsters had told him about dragons. Their power was in their heart, and the heart of a dragon was prized the world over. It would probably fetch a hefty sum in Avonlea.

Sword in hand, he cautiously approached the dragon’s corpse, a part of him still uncertain that he’d actually killed it and perhaps only stunned it to sleep. The chest and belly was exposed enough that he could cut the length of it. Since he didn't know the first thing about dragon anatomy, he supposed he’d just have to split it open and see what was what until he found it. The thought of being elbow deep in dragon guts brought back the sick feeling in his gut, but the thought of the gold he might get for the heart tempered it enough to do what needed to be done.

The sword slid into the dragon with ease, and again he was surprised. The stories always said dragons had scales everywhere, that they were heavy and armored, and that it would take an army of men to them bring down with the sharpest, finest blades. But clearly the underside of a dragon was just as vulnerable and soft as any other creature. He walked the length of the dragon’s torso, pushing the sword in as he went, trying to avoid the gush of blood that pooled over the cave floor like a small lake.

It was easy enough to find the heart once he hit the bone of the rib cage, and he thought it was quite fortunate that most living things were put together the same. The heart was large, almost as big as his head, and once he got out into the fading daylight he could see it was the deepest, darkest red he’d ever seen. Deeper than any rose, or the blood of any other living thing.

It also smelled worse than the burned bodies behind him and the decaying corpse of anything he’d encountered to date. That did make his stomach retch, and what little food he’d eaten before they set out at dawn mixed with the drying puddle of blood at his feet. He spat out the last of it from his mouth and picked up his sword.

The horses hadn't gone far, and after he got them all tied together, he stashed the heart in the one behind him. He didn't want to smell it all the way back to the capital. After washing himself as best he could in a bubbling stream, he hauled himself onto his horse. It was difficult with only one working arm, but he managed.

As he rode back to the village, he wondered if he’d get any sort of hero’s welcome, and what the reward was for slaying a dragon. Surely King Maurice would pay handsomely for such a feat. Maybe he could even choose his own reward.

He’d never wanted to be a soldier. But the law of the land had changed some years ago, and all able bodied men and boys of age were required to serve at least three years in the king’s army, and could be conscripted into service in a time of war. It was the kingdom’s way of having a reserve army that was somewhat trained in case the enlisted soldiers numbers had worn too thin.

His father had been a soldier, decades ago in the Ogre Wars, all but kidnapped from their tiny village and put into service as the fighting grew more desperate. Rumplestiltskin was to young at the time, so his father had left him with his two widowed aunts. After his father deserted his post and was declared a coward and a traitor, there was a price put on his head. What happened to him, no one ever knew or at least no one told him. But Rumplestiltskin was sure the old man was dead and gone, either at the hands of someone he cheated, or at the hands of one of the king’s guards.

All Rumplestiltskin had ever wanted was to have his own shop, make a living at the trade his aunts had taught him, and maybe have a family. As it was he was probably getting too old to start a family of his own, but maybe there was a lonely widow with children to provide for who would look kindly on him.

If the King let him choose, he would ask for a house, not too big, not to small, enough so there was space to set up a shop, just like the old spinsters had when he was a boy. He could give up being a soldier and live out his days as a spinner and a tailor, selling his wares at the market, content and happy and safe.

Yes, that would be the reward of his dreams.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It took Rumplestiltskin two days riding until he could see the banners of King Maurice and Avonlea waving in the distance from the tops of the gate towers on the wall surrounding the city. He’d spent the first night in the little town near the dragon’s cave. The soldiers had been sent to protect from border skirmishes by King George’s troops. Instead, they’d heard reports of a dragon, and their foolhardy captain had decided they could slay it.

He shook his head as he remembered the looks on the other soldier’s faces. They all knew they were headed to their deaths, but an order was an order in the army. His victory over the dragon had been momentary. That first night in a small room at the only inn in the village, as he washed the blood of the dragon, himself, and his fallen compatriots off his body, it had dawned on him that he was the only survivor. He would be headed home alone, with a train of riderless horses behind him, and a gooey, stinking dragon heart in a bag.

He didn't feel much like a conquering hero.

The city square of Avonlea was in full swing, with merchants in from King Leopold’s lands for the quarterly market. Everywhere was a maze of carts and stalls and people, voices calling out advertisements for their wares, arguing with each other over who had the best of what. Most of it was good-natured, though a few resulted in thrown punches, or pastries as in one case, and being pulled apart by the guards. No one would leave with empty pockets, not with war looming on the horizon.

King George was sending small sorties into King Maurice’s lands, raiding the border towns and villages too small to protect themselves, acts which broke the treaty they’d signed almost forty years ago, after combining forces against the ogres. The Ogre Wars had been bad enough, and it had taken nearly all of those thirty years for the three kingdoms to rebuild. Now George’s own ambitions and designs on unifying the kingdoms into one, ruled by him of course, threatened to undo everything. There was also the fear that the ogres would see the kingdoms of men fighting among each other and attack again.

Rumplestiltskin made his way to the city gate, trailing the horses behind him.

“Halt!” a guard called out.

Two guards the approached Rumplestiltskin, their spears at the ready, eyeing him with suspicion. “Those horses don’t look like they’re for selling,” said the shorter of the two, looking pointedly at the saddles and bags and blankets that each horse carried.

“They aren't,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “I’m Rumplestiltskin, soldier in the King’s army, and I have returned from the border town of Glennallen.”

The second guard stepped forward to speak without being overheard. “What happened to the rest of your men?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and pressed his lips together. “They weren't my men,” he explained. “Our captain was killed along with all the other soldiers, save me.”

The guard frowned. “Was it King George -?”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin answered quickly. “It was a - a dragon.”

The guard startled and almost dropped his spear, but caught himself and gave Rumplestiltskin a wide-eyed stare. “A _dragon_?” he exclaimed.

Rumplestiltskin nodded and couldn't fight the smirk that curved his mouth. “Indeed. But it was slain.”

“By whom?” The first guard asked.

Rumplestiltskin smiled proudly. “By me.”

Both guards started laughing until Rumplestiltskin reached into a bag and pulled out the dragon’s heart. The clotted blood oozed between his fingers and dripped onto the ground. They they went deadly silent and stared at him in awe. It was a feeling he thought he could get used to, but really he just wanted to be out of the damn army and to be living his own life.

“I have business at the castle,” Rumplestiltskin said, finally, stuffing the heart into his bag and wiping off his hand on the saddle blanket. “I must speak with the King’s general.”

“And no doubt the king himself,” the taller guard said, smiling. “We can take the other horses to the stables for you. Carry on, hero.”

Rumplestiltskin sat up straighter in his saddle as the guards untied the leads of the other horses and lead them off to the side of the gate. Then he nudged his horse onward and passed through the gates of Avonlea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Word of the dragon and the massacre reached King Maurice’s ears long before Rumplestiltskin made it to the castle proper. The tale of the lone survivor and dragon slayer was already embellished into a tale the bards would surely be singing of for centuries. The palace maids and staff were all a twitter, speaking of the event in hushed, excited whispers.

Maurice sighed and leaned heavily on his desk, resting his head in his hands. It was bad enough that King George was quietly breaking the long standing treaty between the kingdoms, but dragons too? There hadn’t been a dragon in Avonlea for some time, certainly not one that spent it’s time hunting around small villages. He wondered what other manner of vile creatures might start cropping up.

By tomorrow morning, King Leopold would be in Avonlea to discuss the treaty situation, and determine if their two kingdoms should declare war. Leopold’s lands fared far better in the Ogre Wars than Avonlea, and Maurice would need his old friend’s support and the armies it would provide to fend of George if that’s what it came to.

Then there was the rather complicated matter of his daughter, Princess Belle, and her betrothal to Prince James, only son and heir of King George. The union was supposed to bring the two kingdoms together, but now Maurice suspected George would use the marriage to solidify his hold on their collective lands and eventually force Leopold into submission. Oh, sure, Maurice and Leopold would be given proper position within the new unified royal court, but George was not known for his benevolence. James was perhaps even worse, if the stories were true.

It wasn't a union Maurice was particularly happy about, not for his only child, but their options were limited. At the time he thought if he didn't try to forge some alliance, then war was a certainty. If they declared war, then the wedding was obviously off the table, and he would need to find a new match for his Belle, but one that still ensured a close alliance and support for the war.

She wouldn't be happy about any of this, which is why he was hold up in his study, brooding and avoiding the inevitable conversation. The was a mild commotion in the corridor, and at the exact moment Maurice looked up, the doors to his study burst open and a whirl of blue and white and auburn hair stalked towards him.

“Papa!” Belle exclaimed. “Did you hear the news? A dragon! One of our soldiers has slain a dragon! Isn't it _wonderful_?”

Maurice sighed again and forced a smile for his daughter. “Yes, my dear, I heard the news as soon as he passed through the city gates.”

Belle grinned and practically bounced with excitement, coming around the side of the desk to lean against the edge. “I can’t wait to hear him tell the story! I bet it will be so gallant and courageous. A true adventure. He faced down a _dragon_ by _himself_ , Papa!”

Maurice couldn't help the real smile that graced his wrinkled old face. His daughter often lived in a world of fantasy and adventure, fueled by all the books she read. It was too often his duty to remind her of the cold reality of running a kingdom.

“Yes, dear, I’m sure it will be a great story,” he started. “But he wasn't alone, Belle. Avonlea lost fourteen men to that beast, including Captain Oliver.”

Belle’s face fell. “Oh.”

She remembered Oliver. Her maid and friend, Ruby, had fancied him for a time. She had always thought he seemed like a good man, if a little full of himself.

“And while this dragon slayer _is_ something of a hero,” Maurice continued. “He has also been through a great tragedy. He will be our guest for the night, and we shall have a dinner not just in his honor, but in remembrance of our fallen soldiers.”

“Yes, Papa.” Belle nodded, solemnly, her enthusiasm for the adventurous tale of the Dragon Slayer of Avonlea tempered by the thoughts of the men who wouldn't return home. “And we will see to their widows and families?”

He took one of her hands and held it between his, smiling softly at her. “Of course, my sweet Belle. If you like, you can go with Steward when he delivers the reparations to those who live in the city?”

Belle beamed at that. “I would like that very much.”

“Good,” he said. “I also put Miss Potts in charge of this evenings events, if you’d like to assist her.”

“Oh, yes!” Belle popped up off the edge of the desk and smile again. “I will see you later, Papa!”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then left. As the doors closed, Maurice’s head dropped back into his hands. He still needed to discuss the betrothal with Belle. She had never liked Prince James, but she was willing to do her duty if it meant keeping her kingdom and her people secure. He doubted she would mind calling off the wedding, but would she gracefully accept being foisted on another nobleman’s son or another prince? Why did the world put such a price on sons when he knew his daughter would make a fine queen on her own someday. She didn't need a king by her side, but the laws of the land said she had to have one.

He hoped maybe Leopold would have some ideas.

The doors flew open again, and one of the pages entered.

“A message, your grace, from the Steward,” he said, in between panting breaths, and held out a small parchment square.

Maurice stood and took the paper from the young man, nodding to dismiss him. After reading the note, he tossed it on his desk and marched out of the room.

King Leopold was arriving early. Tonight’s dinner needed to be a true feast, fit for visiting royalty, a good friend, and a guest of honor, their dragon slayer.

Maurice frowned as he strode down the hallway. What the devil had the Steward said his name was?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Rumplestiltskin_ , your grace.”

Rumplestiltskin bowed, somewhat awkwardly due to the sling supporting his left arm, and gave the king a hesitant smile.

“Rumplestiltskin,” King Maurice repeated. “Quite a name for quite a hero.”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “It was nothing, sire. Just a - a dragon.”

Maurice let out a bellowing laugh, and beside him, Princess Belle giggled lightly. Rumplestiltskin tried not to stare at her, and forced his eyes back to the king. He let out his own, nervous laugh.

“A dragon is certainly more than nothing, Rumplestiltskin,” Princess Belle said, stepping down from the dais where her father sat on his throne. “Your courage has honored your kingdom, your king, and your princess.”

She cross the short distance to him, and took his free hand in hers. Her grin was wide, her blue eyes were sparkling, and Rumplestiltskin forgot how to speak. His mouth opened and closed, but no words would form. He gave her another shy smile, and she laughed softly.

Then she turned to address the king. “Father,” she began, still holding his rough hand in her impossible soft ones. “How shall we reward our brave hero?”

Maurice smile first at his daughter and then at Rumplestiltskin, and all the former spinner wanted to do was sink into the shiny marble floor beneath him. He had no idea how to behave in front of royalty, and he was deathly afraid of offending them. It didn't help that Princess Belle lived up to the meaning of her name in every possible way. He’d never heard of a princess stepping down to the level of soldier, touching them with such kindness. Her smile was like the sun shining, and he could smell the light scent of roses.

He was roused from his mind’s wanderings by King Maurice clearing his throat.

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes snapped to his king. “Apologies, sire, um…”

Maurice fixed him with a curious stare, and repeated what Rumplestiltskin had missed. “I asked what you might accept as a reward?”

“Oh, uh,” Rumplestiltskin paused and licked his lips, then looked down at his hand that was still inexplicably pressed between the soft palms of Princess Belle. He flashed her a quick smile and then pulled his hand away, clenching it at his side. He missed the warmth of her immediately, but to stay that way another second would have been entirely improper. In fact it always was probably already entirely improper.

“Gold?” King Maurice offered. “A sizable sum, of course, and perhaps a horse of your own? One from our royal stables.”

Rumplestiltskin stood there, gaping like a fish, stunned. He caught himself a moment later and nodded quickly. “Yes, yes sire, that would be -”

“No!” Belle exclaimed, turning to her father. “That is not enough, Papa. This man saved several villages and who knows how many lives. He should have more than just gold and a horse.”

 _Just gold and a horse?_ Rumplestiltskin thought. Did the princess not understand how much that would change his life or the life of any of her subjects?

Maurice took a breath and gave his daughter an endearing look. “What else would you have me do, my dear? Our hero says he will accept what I offer. Would you force him to take more than he wishes?”

Belle frowned thoughtfully and looked from Rumplestiltskin to her father and back again. Then she smiled and clapped her hands once.

“He shall have a knighthood,” she declared.

King Maurice seemed to consider her for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.

Rumplestiltskin was sure he was dreaming. Or perhaps having a nightmare.

A knighthood? _Him?_

He wasn't going to get the reward he wanted, and leave the life of a soldier he never wanted. He was going to be a knight.

Sir Rumplestiltskin.

_Oh, gods._


	2. An Errant Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knighting is official, it's time for a royal feast, and a budding friendship begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels so dialogue heavy, but they were so cute and I couldn't shut them up. I'm still setting the stage, but the real story will get rolling shortly. Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments on the last chapter, and thank you to the lovely marcasite for giving this a once over and finding all my errors!

The early arrival of King Leopold caused a rush of last minute preparation. Rooms were cleaned and refreshed with newly washed linens and large floral arrangements, the kitchen was in full swing, creating a proper royal feast, and the royal guard was out in force on the streets. Though kings traveled with their own retinue of staff and guards, it always seemed best for the host to be over prepared.

Rumplestiltskin watched in amazement as the castle spun itself into a frenzy around him. He'd never seen such a flurry of activity and people. At the center of it all was Princess Belle. She was clearly in her element as she directed staff here and there. Over a large book, she had laid an equally large square of paper. On it she had made a lengthy to do list, and appeared quite diligent, checking and double checking everything. He thought she seemed every bit the lady of the castle, yet she was smiling, polite, and honest in every interaction.

He'd never known nobility to care too much about those who were socially beneath them, but Princess Belle clearly did. His mind flashed back to the feeling of her small hands holding his, her beautiful face beaming at him, and felt a blush creep up his neck.

Shaking off the distracting thoughts, he weaved his way through the crowded hallway and up the stairs to the floor where he'd been given a room for the evening. It was at the end of the corridor, and on the back side of the castle, a good distance from the main hall and quiet. He opened the door and stared at the opulence before him.

The space he entered was a sitting room with a round table to one side for dining, and a sizable fireplace with two couches in a dark wood with carved scrollwork, and an ornate red and gold fabric. He stood in the middle of a colorful and very plush rug that stretched across the space from the table to the door and by itself was probably larger than any room in any house he'd ever lived in. Through the sitting room was a bedroom and attached to that was a small bathing chamber. He was sure it would seem basic and even small to a king or a duke, but to him it was utterly magnificent.

Indeed the sitting room alone would have dwarfed the tiny cottage he shared with his aunts. It seemed excessive for one person, especially one who wasn't very big to begin with, and it made him uncomfortable.

He wandered to the window and saw that it looked out onto the gardens. Most of the flowers were done blooming and the leaves were starting to turn. Too soon everything would be blanketed in snow and battered with bitterly cold winds. He shivered at the thought and moved away from the window to settle on one of the couches by the hearth. The fire burned low now but there was a neatly stacked pile of wood in a basket. He knelt down awkwardly, still minding his wounded arm, and added a couple of logs, stirring the coals with an iron poker. He was unsure of what to do with himself while he waited, though it still seemed absurd that in a few hours he’d be knighted.

And then he _really_ wouldn't know what to do with himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle winced as Ruby tugged on a particularly stubborn tangle, working at the strands of hair until the comb slipped through.

“Sorry, Your Grace!” Ruby said, abjectly, handing the comb over. “I’ll get one of the oils for your hair.”

Belle sighed as Ruby hurried off to her bathing room. Behind her, two of her other maids smoothed a few wrinkles out of her gown and hung it on a clothing stand. She thanked them as they gathered up the dress and undergarments she’d been wearing earlier in the day and hauled them off to the laundry.

She fiddled with the comb in her lap, flicking her thumb nail over the teeth, and tried not to think about the possibility of war. On the one hand, if they went to war against King George, there was no way she’d be forced to marry Prince James. That thought certainly didn't make her unhappy, but on the other hand, her kingdom had finally moved past the last war and to throw her people into another conflict seemed unfair. Those who had lived through the Ogre Wars were older now and had raised families. Their children were just coming into their own, marrying and starting their own lives. A whole generation had grown up knowing peace, but also reminded of how fragile it could be.

She sighed again as Ruby returned and took the comb from her hand to work through the rest of her wet hair, using a little of the oil to ease the worst of the knots.

“You don’t seem as happy as you were earlier.” Ruby leaned around to see Belle’s face, and smiled at her. “Something on your mind, your highness?"

Belle shrugged at her friend. “I feel guilty, Ruby.”

The maid frowned. “Whatever for?”

She sighed. “Because if we go to war, or even if things remain as they do now, with so much tension between our kingdom and King George’s, there is no way father will make me marry Prince James.”

“Ah,” Ruby replied. “I don’t think that’s something to be guilty about. Prince James deserves his horrible reputation. He doesn't deserve _you_.”

Belle tilted her head up and smiled, laughing lightly when Ruby pushed her head forward so she could resume combing. “I know,” Belle said. “But I also know that we needed that alliance to keep the peace. It would have given King George what he wanted, an alliance between our two kingdoms that put him in charge.”

Ruby shook her head. “There wouldn't have been peace for long. That man is nothing but a tyrant.”

“I’m sure he’s not all bad,” Belle muttered.

Ruby tsked and put down the comb, moving around the small stool where Belle sat to lean against the dressing table. She took the princess’s hands in hers and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Belle,” she said, dropping the pretense of princess and maid to speak to her dear friend openly. “You have a lovely heart and you always look for good in everyone, but you haven’t lived under King George’s thumb. You haven’t seen the things that go on inside his borders that the people don’t dare talk about even in hushed whispers. There’s nothing but fear there. I will be very glad if you are not married off to Prince James.”

Belle swallowed and nodded, then smiled back at Ruby. “I know. And I’m so glad you and your gran came here.”

Ruby gave Belle’s hands a squeeze before she dropped them and went back to work. “I’m sure your father will find another match for you. You’ll be married within a year, don’t fret.”

“That’s just it, Ruby.” Belle stood abruptly, and Ruby had to pull the comb away to avoid snagging her hair. “I don’t _want_ to be married!”

“You don’t -?”

“No!” Belle exclaimed. “Certainly not to someone like James, someone who drinks and gambles and takes whores. But not to someone I don’t love either.”

Sighing, Ruby moved towards Belle and brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “Oh, Belle. Your father is right, you read too many books.”

Belle pulled away and shook her damp hair out over her shoulders, moving towards the window. She held back the curtain and looked out onto the courtyard and the darkening sky. “I don’t understand why love has to be for fairytales. Why can’t it be real?”

“It is real,” Ruby answered, moving to stand behind Belle. “It just doesn't usually come first. It happens later, after you’re married to someone for a while, after children. When you come to respect and care for each other and -”

Belle frowned. “I don’t want to marry someone who doesn't respect me _now_. Who doesn't love me _now_. It shouldn't have to come later, Ruby. If it’s good enough for the princesses in books, why can’t be good enough for real life princesses?”

Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know, Your Grace. It’s just the way of things.” She rested her hands on Belle’s shoulders for a moment and then tugged gently to turn the princess around. “But I do know if we don’t start getting you dressed _now_ , you’re going to be late to the party.”

Belle smiled wanly and let her friend lead her towards the rack where her gown was hanging.

As Ruby helped Belle put on the layers of clothing, each one more uncomfortable than the last, she thought about what Ruby had said. Maybe love could come later, if the man she married was at least good and kind and all the things someone like Prince James wasn't. There was no way she could come to love someone like him.

She thought perhaps she should talk to her father about it. Her papa would listen to her if she let him know her fears. Maybe he would let her have some choice in the matter and she could find a good man whom she could grow to love.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin felt like he was going to be sick again.

The path of red carpet seemed infinitely long as he walked the length of it, through the small gathering of people in the great hall, to the dais where King Maurice sat. The sound of his boots echoed through the grand hall, and he felt silly somehow with his arm still uselessly in a sling. His hands were clammy and he could feel beads of sweat running down the back of his neck. He hoped Princess Belle wasn’t going to try to hold his hand again.

As he approached, he realized that King Leopold and his young daughter were in attendance, standing just to the side of the throne, next to Princess Belle.

 _Great_ , he thought, _I can make a fool of myself in front of two kings and two princesses!_

When he reached the end of the carpet, just at the bottom of the dais steps, the king stood and came forward to stand on the bottom stair. Rumplestiltskin glanced to the side and saw Princess Belle smiling at him. He looked back to his king and swallowed nervously before he got down on one knee, and then bent his head low.

A guard brought forth an ornate scabbard containing a ridiculously lavish sword. It had a gilded handle encrusted with gems which made it almost twice as heavy as it needed to be. Maurice drew the sword and managed to hold back a grunt as he lifted the silly thing high for all to see. Then he carefully brought it down on both of Rumplestiltskin’s shoulders, just barely tapping each one, and speaking the equally gaudy words that traditional required.

When it he was done, Maurice smiled. “Rise, Sir Rumplestiltskin.”

The people in attendance began clapping as Rumplestiltskin lifted his head. Princess Belle rushed forward and practically pulled him to his feet, squeezing his free hand in hers again. She grinned at him, and he smiled back, hoping she didn't notice how damp his palm was.

“Come, Sir Rumplestiltskin,” she said, feigning seriousness, but giving it away with the little twitch of her lips. “Please join us for the feast.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “Th-thank you, Your Grace.”

The princess tucked her arm through his and they followed behind the two monarchs through a massive pair of carved wood doors into the banquet hall.

A few moments later, Rumplestiltskin found himself seated to the right of the princess. He watched the rest of the guests filing in, taking their seats along the tables by rank, from the dukes all the way down to the minor lords. And here he was, a lowly soldier yesterday, now a knight, sitting next to a princess and one chair away from the king.

He looked down at the large plate in front of him, a creamy white porcelain, finer than any he’d ever seen with a thin gilded edge in a looping scrollwork pattern. To each side was a rather excessive amount of flatware. His eyes went wide as he realized he had no idea what the proper etiquette was for any of this. He thought if he could just get through being knighted without falling on his face, he’d be doing pretty well, but there was clearly still ample time for him to make an idiot of himself.

He felt a light touch on his arm, and turned to see Princess Belle smiling at him again.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “Honestly most of the people here just use a knife and fork and never touch the rest.”

He laughed softly and relaxed for a moment. “I don’t know what any of the other ones are for anyway.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes a little. “Neither do I.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the midpoint of the feast, servers hurriedly refilled goblets with wine and a hush came over the room as King Maurice stood. He nodded to King Leopold who then stood as well, and everyone shifted in their chairs to see the two monarchs.

Maurice cleared his throat and tried to collect his thoughts.

“First, it is only right that I thank our guests of honor, our friend and ally, King Leopold,” Maurice said, gesturing to the man standing to his left. There was a small bit of clapping, which he quieted with a raised hand. “And the brave dragon slayer, Sir Rumplestiltskin.”

A larger round of applause rose up, and Rumplestiltskin hesitantly looked around the room, forcing himself to smile and nod politely. He couldn't believe these people would cheer more for him than a king. Inside he was cringing at the title of dragon slayer.

“But they are not the only ones we need to thank,” the king continued, lowering his gaze somberly before looking up again. “Fourteen good men, soldiers of our realm, lost their lives three days ago. It may not seem like much when we've lost thousands before, but we should never take any loss of life for granted.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, and Rumplestiltskin chanced a quick glance at Princess Belle. He found her eyes shining with unshed tears and clenched his fist against the urge to take her hand in comfort.

King Maurice lifted his goblet, and waited for everyone to do the same. “To our brave fallen heroes, and our newest hero,” he said, catching Rumplestiltskin’s eyes and nodding in acknowledgement.

Rumplestiltskin took a healthy gulp of wine and forced it down without sputtering. He wondered if it was bad form to get drunk at a royal feast so you couldn't feel your own embarrassment.

Everyone resumed eating and talking, and Rumplestiltskin let out a quiet sigh. So far everything had been fine, but he was afraid as the next course came out that it would be impossible for him to cut his meat with only one hand. Fortunately, the lamb was so tender he needed only his fork, which further served to remind him of the luxury surrounding him. It would be easy to become used to such a thing, but at the same time the thought of it made him uncomfortable and twitchy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Belle watched the new knight as inconspicuously as she could. He seemed very gentle and humble, which intrigued her. Usually the sort of men who went about trying to slay dragons were brash and egotistical, too ready to regale her with tales of their prowess with a sword and their adventures. But Rumplestiltskin was almost shy, and aside from the few pleasantries they’d exchanged, he hadn't really spoken to her at all.

“So tell me, Sir,” she began, resting a hand on his shoulder to avoid touching his wounded arm, “how did you come to find yourself in a dragon’s lair?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled weakly. There was no way he could tell her the true story about how he’d been trapped and frightened, cowardly and lucky all the same. “It certainly wasn't by choice, Your Highness.”

She laughed, imagining that no one would ever wish to find themselves in a dragon’s cave. “You jest, sir. I’m sure you were very noble and brave, defending the realm.”

Her laugh was a light, soft sound that was almost musical to him, and it made him smile back at her in spite of the anxious feeling in his stomach.

“I was just following orders,” he continued. “We thought the villagers were exaggerating about a dragon living in a cave near the mountains. Once we were inside, it all happened so quickly, and well… I guess I was just in the right place at the right time.”

He shrugged, and she patted his slinged arm gently. “Well, you have my admiration all the same, even if you won’t tell me the whole story in all its glorious detail. I've read about such feats in my books, and I just wondered how it compared to the real thing.”

“I’m no expert,” he replied with a wry smile, “but it’s probably nothing like they say in books.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. “I do find that books tend to either exaggerate the truth or withhold it. And I suppose the real thing is far messier.”

She wrinkled her nose as she said ‘messier’ and he barely held back laugh. He thought it might be inappropriate to find amusement in a princess’s expression, however adorable it might be.

“I wonder if our library has a book on dragon anatomy?” she wondered, tilting her head in thought. She could remember a few books on human anatomy that she’d only dared to peek at once. The pages she managed to see, before her governess caught her were hardly scandalous, but they had ignited her curiosity.

Rumplestiltskin swirled the wine around his glass and sighed. “I think I could have used such a book about three days ago.”

“Would it have helped?” she asked, and the look he gave her was strange.

“I - um,” he pressed his lips together and then swallowed. The memory and the feeling of it all, the blood, the weight, the smell, was too close to the surface. He wondered if perhaps attending a royal feast was a bad idea, not that he felt he could have said no, not to the king and certainly not to the charming princess. “I don’t think it would have turned out any different.”

He sighed, and shrugged again. “I was lucky.”

She seemed to accept that and nodded. They both turned back to their plates and were quiet for a few minutes.

“Where will you go after this?” Belle asked.

She saw the new knight stiffen and shift uncomfortably in his seat, and she worried her lip, hoping she hadn't overstepped in asking.

“I, um, I don’t know, your grace,” he replied after a sip of wine. “I’m not sure where a knight is supposed to go.”

The truth was he wasn't sure what place would accept him or what his place was in the world anymore. Did bravery come with an edict from a king and a new title? Was he to go back to being a common spinner? It was too much for his head and he could feel the beginnings of an ache.

“A knight goes anywhere that needs him, of course,” she answered, touching his arm again and smiling.

She smiled so easily, and he wondered if she was always this way or if she was being polite. But her eyes shined a little when she did, as if there was just an ease about her, a way that let her see the world as a brighter place than it was.

“A traveling knight?” he questioned. “I thought they were all at the command of the king?”

“Not all,” she replied, pausing their conversation a moment to thank the server who set a decadent looking chocolate torte in front of her.

“It used to be that some traveled the kingdom, helping wherever they were needed, bringing justice to the small villages, and protection to those that needed it. Knights errant, my mother once told me.”

Her voice was a little wistful. Rumplestiltskin knew the king was a widower, but he couldn't remember for how long. It seemed like one of those things that had always been. The princess may have been just a small child when her mother died.

“If you won’t travel, then do you have a home to return to? Family?” she asked.

He fidgeted in his chair, glancing sideways at her as she stuck a forkful of the dessert in her mouth and hummed happily.

“I’m not, I mean...uh, I don’t have -”

She swallowed her bite of cake, and then her face fell. She touched his shoulder cautiously, giving it a slight squeeze when he didn't shift away. “I’m sorry. I didn't -.”

She pulled her hand back and frowned down at the cloth draped over her lap. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Rumplestiltskin looked at her with what he hoped was reassurance and shook his head. “It’s no matter.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Belle felt awkward after having asked about his non-existent family, and though he seemed to have forgiven her transgression, the conversation lagged and he became withdrawn and quiet. She tried to listen to what her father was saying to King Leopold, but the two of them were bent towards each other, keeping much of their conversation muffled. She looked across to Princess Snow and smiled at the young girl. They had exchanged greetings and a few simple pleasant inquiries, but Belle found it was a bit difficult to carry on a conversation with a girl of eight who looked like she would rather be anywhere else.

Eventually, the feast ended, and though the hour was late, the princess found herself lagging behind her father, waiting until Rumplestiltskin caught up to her.

“Sir?” she said, catching his attention. “Would you care to join me for a walk?”

Rumplestiltskin looked flustered for a moment, then remembered himself and gave her a courteous bow. “It’s late, your grace,” he replied. “I thought I might just go back to my room and rest.”

She nodded and took up his right arm, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Then I shall let you escort me to my room?”

He swallowed and stared at their twined arms, unsure of what to say. “Um, Your Majesty , I think - I mean I should-”

A quick glance at her face left him reeling. Her lips were twisted slightly, and her eyebrows were arched. She looked at him expectantly and amused, and he let out a breath.

“I’d be honored,” he said finally.

And she smiled and tugged him a little until he moved and fell into step beside her.

Her hand felt so warm, and he caught himself wishing his other arm wasn't currently useless so he could rest his hand over hers and hold it to him. The swish of her skirts, and the soft sound of her voice relaxed him as she told him about the book she was looking forward to starting. It was something about a fairy and a magical horse that could fly and a pirate. He thought it sounded too fanciful and silly, but then she started musing over how it was possible the horse could fly, as if the mechanics of the whole thing interested her more than anything else. He found himself wondering if it was true what one of his aunts had said, that everything written in a book or told in a story existed in some way, somewhere.

Too soon, they arrived at her chambers, and she slipped her arm from his. He bid her a good night and turned to go, but then stopped after a few steps.

“Your Grace?” he called out, turning back to her. She gave a little tilt of her head and he asked, “You’ll let me know how it works? The flying horse?”

She laughed and nodded, and Rumplestiltskin felt lighter than air.


	3. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Maurice makes a decision Belle doesn't like, and afterwards the Princess does a little venting to her new friend Sir Rumple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this chapter because I am still working up to the main plot, which finally gets going in the next chapter. I felt like it was terrible but my beta tells me otherwise. Speaking of, I should have said it before but marcasite is the greatest beta ever. I read this so many times that I stopped seeing all the missing commas, apostrophes, and wrong verb tenses. Michelle, you are wonderful.

Maurice slept restlessly and rose early, sitting for a while in the chair closest to the hearth where a fire burned low. Today, decisions had to be made, very important decisions that would alter the lives of everyone in his kingdom including his beloved daughter. Her most especially, if he and King Leopold could come up with an alternative suitor to Prince James.

In truth, Maurice was more than happy that Belle wouldn’t be married off to a man like James. He knew she deserved a husband of better character, even if he wasn’t a prince, but he also knew that convincing her to accept any marriage arrangement he might make was an uphill battle. His daughter was an idealist who believed in true love and brave knights instead of strategic alliances and paid soldiers who merely followed orders. He was loathe to disabuse her of such beliefs, but it was necessary to secure their position.

There were many minor lords in Leopold’s kingdom, Estoria, which would undoubtedly jump at the chance for a royal match, but their positions weren’t strong enough and they wouldn’t provide enough advantage in a war. He also needed to make sure that whoever married Belle was someone who could handle being king someday, someone with experience in both diplomacy and force. There were several good matches within the kingdom, two dukes and a widowed countess with sons he could name off the top of his head. But this needed to be with someone from outside, someone who would solidify the allegiance between Avonlea and Estoria.

Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet and shuffled off to get dressed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After breakfast, Maurice met King Leopold in the council room. There was a large map spread out over the table and dotted with iron figurines in the shapes of castle towers, crossed swords, and horses. The towers marked the locations of all the castles and keeps in their region, and the clusters of horses and crossed swords represented the cavalry and soldiers under the command of each kingdom.

For the last few hours they’d been discussing troop deployment for a war that hadn’t even started, and still may not if they could help it, but it had begun to wear on the two men. They sagged in their chairs on opposite sides of the table, almost simultaneously, and then exchanged rueful smiles.

“I want to be with you on this, my friend, but I have my own issues to deal with.” Leopold sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Maybe we should talk about something we can actually resolve?”

Maurice nodded, wincing at the budding ache between his eyes and took a sip of water. “Yes, I suppose.”

“I was thinking of Gaston,” Leopold said. He picked idly at a plate of cured meats and bread they’d had brought in for lunch. Nothing felt appetizing when war was the topic.

Maurice frowned. “Gaston?” he repeated, trying to place how he knew that name.

The other monarch nodded and sat forward, resting his elbows on the table edge. “Duke Humbert’s son. Almost a third of my army comes from his duchy, and he has trade ships that could be easily armored and turned into a navy.”

Maurice looked thoughtful. “Humbert is a good man. What do you know of his son?”

Leopold shrugged. “He’s an excellent swordsman, and I’ve heard he’s well-liked by his people. But the last time I met him he was twelve years old, so I can’t speak to his character myself, only what I hear. Humbert is loyal, but only so far as he knows he can’t just create a kingdom of his own. A match with your daughter would mean much to him and go a long way to securing his continued fealty, and our realm.”

“And yourself as well?” Maurice asked, eyebrows raised.

Leopold nodded, and Maurice leaned back in his chair, considering his friend’s words. “It would probably be the best match for all, I agree. But -” he paused, and then sighed.

The two men held each other’s gaze for a long moment and then Leopold looked down at his hands, folded on the table. “I have a daughter too, Maurice. I would want a good match for her.”

Maurice nodded and then stood, moving to the other side of the table. They shook on their agreement, and called for the pages. Maurice sent one off to fetch the Princess, the other left with a letter from Leopold to be delivered by pigeon as soon as possible to Duke Humbert, summoning him and his son, Gaston, to Avonlea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A page found Rumplestiltskin on the stairs leading up from the great hall. He had been to see the king’s physician who examined his arm and gave him a poultice to apply to his arm to ease the lingering ache, but otherwise declared him healed. He would still have to wear the sling for another day or two, but he did admit that it felt much better than when he’d arrived in Avonlea.

The page was a thin, red-haired boy who wheezed and panted as he called out for Rumplestiltskin. A summons from the King was handed over and Rumplestiltskin paled. He had hoped he’d be done with meeting kings for a while, but now he was being ordered to the council room.

He followed the page down a series of hallways and through a pair of massive iron doors. Behind them was the council room where the King met with his advisors. The doors were built to be strong and barred from the inside in case the castle was under siege. The entire room was paneled first with iron plates and then covered over with wood. Protection runes were carved into the wood to ward off magic and covered with colorful tapestries depicting great battles and stories from lore. In theory the room was impenetrable.

Rumplestiltskin gaped and looked around the large, arched ceiling, over the tapestries, and finally settled his eyes on the huge table in the center of the room. After a few moments, he heard a sharp clearing of a throat and his eyes shot up to meet the Kings.

King Maurice looked at him with amusement, and then shared another look with King Leopold. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Y-yes, Your Majesties. I’m sorry, I -”

King Maurice waved him off and sat back in his chair at the head of the table, and motion for Rumplestiltskin to come forward.

“Can I ask what this is about, Your Highness?” he asked, looking back and forth between the two kings. He could see the maps and markers and knew they were planning a war. The thought made his stomach turn.

Maurice picked up a quill, dabbed it in ink, and then scribbled his signature over a piece of parchment. He folded it in thirds and stamped it in wax with the royal seal.

“Your knighthood,” the King said, standing and holding out the folded paper. When he didn’t take it right away the King frowned. “If you still want it, that is.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed and forced a polite smile. He stepped closer and hesitated a moment before taking the paper from the King. He supposed this made it really official. There was no going back now, he was a knight.

He bowed respectfully, and stared at the paper in his hands before lifting his eyes to the King. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

The King waved a hand at him again. “Your bravery earned it, my good Knight. I am sure you will serve the realm well.”

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t so sure about that, but he bowed again to each monarch in turn, and then hurried out of the room, his heart hammering in his chest. Just outside in the hallway, he passed a flash of blue and white, and turned to see Princess Belle fly through the doors he’d just exited, her long chestnut hair and the train of her gown fluttering behind her wildly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Father!” Belle shouted. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

Maurice stood absolutely still while she stalked the length of the table, here blue eyes glaring furiously at her father. When she reached the King’s side, she slammed a crumpled piece of paper down in front of him. Her ribs strained against her corset as she tried to take deep breaths. She’d barely skimmed the message the page delivered before she was out the door of her chambers and hurrying through the halls to find her father.

She was adamant that she was not going to marry some Duke’s son just because King Leopold and her father saw a strategic advantage in it. She was not a pawn to be moved around their chessboard.

“My dear,” Maurice said with a sigh. “I wanted to talk to you about this, _privately_ , but you know it’s for the good of the kingdom.”

“But, father -!”

Maurice took her by the shoulders and gave her a plaintive look. “Belle, we’ve chosen Gaston to be your betrothed. He and his father will be here in a few short days. There will be a feast to celebrate your betrothal, and in three months’ time you will be married. And that’s the end of it.”

Belle took a few shaky breaths and looked from her father to King Leopold and back again. “ _What?_ But I don’t even know him! How do you know he’s a good man? That he will be a good husband?”

“My sweet child,” he sighed, letting his hands trail down her arms and then fall to his sides. “I would not see you married to someone who would not treat you as you deserve.”

She scoffed. “Oh, but Prince James was acceptable and would treat me as I deserve? In between visits to the brothel? Is _that_ what I deserved?”

“Belle, it’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple, father,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “What I deserve is to choose for myself.”

Maurice squared his shoulders and took a breath. “My dear we’ve already discussed this, and it has been decided,” he said firmly.

She sighed and raised one had to swipe at her eyes. “Why?”

The dull throb in his head had turned to a solid pounding. He wanted nothing more than to give his daughter what she wanted, but too many things had become pressing and necessary. “Because it’s the way of things, it’s just - ”

He stopped, knowing there was no reasoning she would accept right now, and gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s for the good of the kingdom. Won’t you think of our people?”

She bit back a sob and nodded. “I do think of them. And I want to serve them, but this -?” She trailed off and shook her head. “I won’t do it.”

“Belle -”

“ _No_ ,” she said crossing her arms.

Maurice took a breath and steeled himself. “My daughter, I love you, but this is not your decision. If we don’t secure our alliance, then King George will march his soldiers right through both our kingdoms.”

Belle swallowed. The thought of King George bringing ruin to her home terrified her, even though she still thought maybe there was a chance for peace.

“Think about what that would mean for your people, Belle. For you?” Maurice pleaded. “You think you don’t have a choice now? Imagine what it would be like with King George making the choice for you? _If_ he lets us live.”

Belle bit her lip and then nodded, weakly, the fight draining out of her as she imagined the worst. If any of it could be prevented by her marriage to this Gaston, then she would just have to try to be brave. Like her mother said: _Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow_. She nodded again, gave her father’s hand a squeeze, and left.

In stark contrast to when she entered, the train of her dress dragged against the floor, and her eyes stared a point on the floor in front of her. No longer angry, she was just simply defeated.

After the Princess left, Leopold pushed out of his chair and to his feet. “Well that could have gone better.”

Maurice sighed and nodded. “Gaston will stay here during the engagement. I want him to spend time with Belle so she can get to know him and decide for herself what she has to do.”

Leopold’s raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to let the Princess decide the fate of our kingdoms?”

Maurice shook his head. “Of course not, but if I have no consideration for her feelings she’ll rebel completely against the idea and probably run away at the last minute. Or she’d feel completely forced into marriage and hate me. I would probably hate myself too, in the end.”

Leopold opened his mouth to speak, but Maurice held up a hand.

“Don’t worry. She cares about her people enough that she’ll do her part.” He sighed again and then fixed Leopold with a hard stare. “But my Belle is good judge of character, so if this Gaston doesn’t pass muster with her, then we’ll have to find someone else.”

Leopold exhaled, and then nodded, hoping their plans weren’t for naught.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin didn’t know where to go.

He wasn’t lost, but he felt lost, and after he left the council room he’d just wandered the halls, the parchment that declared his knighthood tucked in his jerkin. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be saying at the castle, or where he’d go once he left. He didn’t like this not knowing.

He came around a corner and found himself face to face with Princess Belle.

She let out a startled oh and staggered backwards.

“Your Grace!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t, uh, I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She shook her head and gave him a frail smile. “No no, Sir Rumplestiltskin, it’s fine. I was quite distracted myself.”

He nodded and smiled back at her, but she was looking down at her dress and fidgeting with her fingers. “Yes, I, um, noticed that earlier.”

She looked up, confused, and he explained, “Outside the council room, I was just leaving and you were -”

She let out a short laughed and nodded. “And I was furious and practically running down the hall, yes. I didn’t even notice you.”

Reaching out a hand, she touched his slinged arm and gave him a real smile. “I’m sorry, Sir Rumplestiltskin.”

He looked down at the floor, avoiding looking at her hand on his arm, and shook his head. “It’s no matter, Princess.” Then he looked up and met her eyes. They were bright and red-rimmed and he frowned. “Are you alright, Your Grace?”

She shook her head again and ran her hands over the front of her gown before clenching them into fists. “No, I’m not. I’m very much not alright.”

Concerned, he stepped closer and leaned in, speaking to her in a quieter voice. “Can I ask what’s wrong?”

Belle swallowed, looking away, and pressed her lips together, the mix of anger and fear in her belly welling up again and threatening to have her in sobs. “What’s wrong is everyone seems to get to decide my life but me. I just get to do what I’m told.”

He sighed and, without thinking, reached for her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his and squeezed as she shut her eyes. Two tears broke free, trailing over her cheeks, and Rumplestiltskin felt his chest tighten. It didn’t seem right for such a beautiful face to look so sad, but he didn’t know what to say that would make anything better. The life of a prince or princess always seemed quite idyllic to him, but he’d never stopped to consider how much of it would be controlled and decided for them. It didn’t seem right, but what could he say against it?

After a moment, she sniffed loudly and pulled her hand away to dab at her eyes. Remembering himself, Rumplestiltskin pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. It was a faded white cotton and a little tattered at the edges from use, but it was soft and clean. There was a small embroidery at the edge in a matching thread so that you could only see it in the light, small, continuous loops all the way around. One of his aunts had made it and it was one of the few things he still had left of them.

Belle looked at the cloth in his hand and smiled as she accepted it, touching it lightly to the hollows under her eyes and the edge of her nose. She sniffled again and gave him an uneasy look, handing the handkerchief back to him.

“Sorry,” she said, sheepishly.

“Are you feeling better then?” he asked, tucking the cloth away.

She took a breath and nodded, smiling slightly at his hopeful expression. “Yes, thank you.”

He gave her a small smile, and bowed slightly. “Your Grace.”

As he turned to go she bit her lip and called out to him. “Sir Knight?” She waited until he stopped and looked back to her. “Would you, um, would you walk with me? In the gardens?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin felt strange walking through the hedgerows and the now empty flower beds, chatting idly with a princess, as if this was a thing he did every day. He was sure it was just nerves from being around royalty and trying not to trip over himself or say the wrong thing. Her arm was wrapped around his again and that was really not helping because all he could think of was how warm and soft she felt.

Whatever had upset Princess Belle earlier seemed to be out of mind for the moment as she told him about how the roses were planted so they grew up and twined with the vines and shrubbery, how they filled the air with scent in the early summer. He could tell she had been crying earlier, the red tinge to her otherwise bright blue eyes unmistakable. But he’d also seen the fire in her eyes when she breezed by him in the corridor, how anger made her shoulders stiffen and her hands clench into fists around her gown. She wasn’t a woman he’d ever want to scorn that was for sure, lest he find himself without a head. And he wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t be the one to take it from him in her fury.

For some reason the thought made him smile. A soft tug on his arm stopped him mid step, and he turned to see the Princess looking up at him with that curious quirk to her lips and a raised eyebrow he’d seen at the feast.

“Something amusing, Sir?” she asked lightly.

He grinned and then gave a quick shake of his head. “No, Your Grace - well, yes, but it wasn’t you. I - I was just -” Her expression had gone blank and he thought perhaps he had offended her. “I was just remembering something.”

She giggled and ducked her head for a moment. “I was only teasing. I’m sure my endless information on flowers and plants is hardly amusing.”

“No!” He insisted. “No, you’re - I mean it’s, um, fine. Nice. This is nice.”

She laughed again, and shook her head. A few curls fell loose from the ribbon holding her hair back, and she brushed them back before leading him onward down the path. Earlier, she had been torn between furious anger and depressing resignation, her head aching from oscillating between the two. Instead of continuing to sit and stew in her rooms, she had decided to go for a walk. Running into Rumplestiltskin had seemed fortuitous, and she couldn’t help herself from asking him to join her.

She was sure if her governess could see her now she would get quite the scolding, but she didn’t see anything wrong with a knight escorting a princess for a walk. Rumplestiltskin was a shy but charming walking companion, who seemed pleased with a leisurely stroll and to let _her_ lead _him_ where she wanted, instead of feeling like she was being towed along. She wondered how it would be to walk with Gaston, and then immediately pushed the thought away.

Rumplestiltskin sensed a shift in his walking companion and gave her a sideways glance. She must have had some unpleasant or concerning thought because she pressed her lips together and looked away for a moment.

He frowned. “Is something wrong? You seem -”

She turned to him quickly and interrupted. “Oh, no. No, I’m just - actually, yes.”

She pulled him over to a stone bench and sat down. He sat too and shifted so there was space between them and he could turn to look at her.

She sighed and looked down at her lap as she fiddled with a ring on her right hand. “Many things are wrong.”

He frowned again, but she spoke again before he could ask what those things were.

“In three months my father is going to marry me off to a man I’ve never met,” she said quietly. “This will supposedly secure our alliance with Estoria and some Duke who has a lot of soldiers and ships we need if there’s a war.”

Her voice sounded so meek, so different from what he’d heard before. His fingers flexed over his knee, resisting the urge to take her hand. “I’m sure your father wouldn’t choose someone who was unkind?” he offered.

“He was too ready to see me betrothed to Prince James,” Belle snapped. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about him.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “I’m sure everyone has.”

“I just want to decide for myself,” she sighed. “I wanted - adventure, and - and the chance to fall in love. Just once, you know? To know what it feels like.”

He swallowed and shifted uncomfortably on the hard stone seat. “Sometimes,” he said, shrugging. “Sometimes adventures aren’t like they say in books. They aren’t easy or fun, and they definitely aren’t safe.”

His expression made her smile and she knew he was referring to his little adventure with the dragon. While brave, she couldn’t imagine it had been any fun and certainly not easy.

“So maybe,” he continued. “Maybe falling in love isn’t either?”

“Yes, maybe,” she said, nodding. Her smile faded and her eyes drifted away again to stare a spot by a scraggly holly bush. Her fingers tugged at the ring, her mother’s ring, pulling it to the last knuckle on her finger before sliding it back again. “Do you think it’s terrible of me that I was happy we might go to war if it meant I didn’t have to marry him?”

“No,” he replied insistently. “Of course not. No one would want to marry someone so -”

He waved his hand and pulled a face, trying to think of a tasteful word to call a known scoundrel like Prince James.

“Or someone they didn’t love?” she asked, looking down at her hands and smoothing them over her gown. When she glanced up at Rumplestiltskin she saw only sympathy in his eyes.

“Yes,” he said softly.

He started to say more but stopped himself. He couldn’t tell her about Milah, about how much he understood both not loving and not being loved. Not only wouldn’t it have been appropriate, it would have reveal his shame, his cowardice. It was the past he’d been running from for years that inexplicably lead him here.

She laughed, humorlessly. “And yet I had no choice then, and no choice now, because apparently what’s between my legs is more important than how I _feel_.”

Her eyes slammed shut and she pressed her lips together. She’d already said too many things she shouldn’t.

“Your Grace -” he started, but her soft voice halted whatever ineffectual words he was going to say.

“Belle.” She said, breathed out into the cool air like a whisper. “My name is Belle.”

Abruptly, she stood and headed off towards the castle as fast as she could, leaving Rumplestiltskin to hurry after her, confused. She took the most direct route back, not wanting to wind her way through the paths and hedges. She needed to make it back to her room before she started crying again.

“Your Grace!” He hissed, trying to call after her without attracting attention from any of the guards. “Please!”

She didn’t slow down, just stalked towards the servants’ entrance, stumbling a little in her heels in the grass. Ever since she was a little girl she’d used the back stairs and the servant’s door to sneak out to the garden from her room. She heard Rumplestiltskin behind her and she wanted to stop and apologize but she was too embarrassed and angry and hurt. There was a stitch in her side from moving so fast in her bulky dress and forgetting to eat anything since breakfast, unshed tears blurring her vision.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin gasped, finally catching up to her. He hadn’t known princesses in velvet and silk gowns could move so fast. “Stop. Please.”

She pitched forward and put out a hand to catch herself against a tree, the bark rough and cold, but somehow welcome against her fingers. She was panting, both from wanting to cry and trying to run.

“I’m sorry,” she said once she’d caught her breath. When she looked up her eyes were brimming over with tears. She blinked and they slipped free, trailing down her face to catch on her lips. “I shouldn’t have said those things. It was - rude of me.”

“No,” he said, resting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “It’s - it’s no matter.”

She gave him a half laugh, half sob. “Do you always say that?”

He shrugged, and that made her laugh more. She turned to lean her back against the tree and wiped the streaks of tears away with her hands.

“It’s late,” he said, surprised, and looked up at the sky as if he’d just noticed the sun was nearly set. “Are you -? Alright?”

She nodded, then paused, looking down at the toes of her shoes poking out from under the hem of her dress, and looked up to nod again.

“Yes,” she said with more emphasis than she felt.

Should I -?” he asked, pointing towards the servants’ entrance door just beyond the garden gate “Do you want me to escort you to your room? Again?”

She shook her head no and gave him another wane smile. “I think I’d like to stay out here a little longer.”

“Good night, then, Your Grace,” he said, and gave her a small bow.

“Belle,” she admonished. But there was a slight curve to her lips and a raised eyebrow that let lightened it.

“Belle,” he repeated. He hoped he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. He liked the way her name sounded.

Then he turned and started walking back towards the gate, hoping he would remember the way back up to his room.

“Thank you,” she called out, and he stopped to look back at her. His smile was crooked, and, strangely, she felt a flutter in her stomach.

“It’s no matter.”

She laughed, and the sound followed him all the way back to his room.


	4. To Market, To Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin and Belle visit the market, declare their new friendship, and meet a mysterious stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been dying to get this chapter done, and I'm sorry it's taken so long. My goal is to update about once a week, but last week I had a house guest and well... Mad Max happened okay. You can understand I'm sure. ;) Here we see the start of the overall plot. There is another note at the end, but I didn't want to spoil anything. I hope you enjoy!

It was two days before Belle saw Rumplestiltskin again.

She had kept to her rooms almost entirely, pouting and stewing and refusing to speak to her father, though he'd sent messages and pages to fetch her. The King had even come to her door himself, but she turned him away. It was, perhaps, immature, but she didn’t care. Her father had always known he’d raised a daughter with a strong mind of her own. As stubborn as her mother, he often said, but always fondly and a bit wistful. She wished more than ever that her mother had lived, for this was surely the time when a daughter needed a mother the most. Finally, Ruby convinced her to at least go and listen to what her father had to say. But Belle knew that unless what he told her was that he had changed his mind, she wasn't going to like it.

It was a lovely autumn day, warmer than usual, so Belle cut through the courtyard on the way to her father’s study. She heard Rumplestiltskin’s voice followed by the sounds of clashing swords. Curious, she made her way to the practice yards by the stables and saw Rumplestiltskin sparring with one of the squires. She watched for a moment from a spot near the edge of the armory, as they leisurely attacked and parried, neither seeming to be trying very hard to make the other yield.

Then, the squire, David, she thought his name was, made a sudden lunge, and Rumplestiltskin stepped back and turned as he blocked the blade with his own. The pace of their duel picked up, the clang of metal against metal rising in tempo and volume, and Belle’s eyes widened. She had seen plenty of men fight before, in tournaments, but this felt more intimate, more like something she wasn’t supposed to see, forbidden somehow.

Rumplestiltskin landed a solid blow to the squire’s shield, but the young man held steady and swung his sword around, catching the knight as his weight shifted and sent him tumbling to the ground. Rumplestiltskin laughed and took the hand up David offered with a smile.

“Sorry, Sir,” the squire said, smiling back hesitantly.

Rumplestiltskin dusted off his trousers and shook his head. “Nonsense. That was a fine counter attack. I left myself off balance and I shouldn’t have.”

“How’s your arm?” David asked, stepping forward to examine the shield and strapping on Rumplestiltskin’s left arm.

“It’s stiff and still a bit sore, but it seems fine,” he answered, allowing David to take the shield from him. “I’m just feeling a bit out of practice and slow.”

David smiled and nodded. “Understandable, Sir, give what you’ve been through. Do you want to go again?”

Belle watched as Rumplestiltskin nodded and then set his sword aside to take off his leather jerkin. Her breath held as he moved close to where she was standing and laid the leather over one of the fence rails. He was sweating and there was dust still covering his boots and scattered over the side of his neck. His shoulder length hair was sticking to his skin in places as was the white cotton shirt he wore. There was even a bit of stubble on his cheeks and chin, and she caught herself worrying her lip as she stared.

“Belle.”

She startled to hear her name, realizing that he’d noticed her. “Sir Rumplestiltskin,” she replied, a bit breathless, watching as he crossed the short distance to her.

He leaned on the top fence rail and smiled at her. “I’m surprised to see you here, Your Grace.”

She smile sheepishly and ducked her head as she closed the distance to the fence. “I was passing through the courtyard, and I heard the sounds of fighting so I came to see who was here. I so rarely get to see knights at work.”

He laughed, a soft, deep sound, and she felt her face flush.

“It’s hardly real knight’s work,” he said. “And as you can see, I’m a little rusty.”

He shrugged and looked a little ashamed, and she smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be back in proper form in no time.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, and Belle swallowed hard. She felt suddenly shy and kept averting her eyes, looking around the practice yard for something to distract her. It didn’t make any sense to her why.

“Well, I’m sure you have much more pressing things to do than watch me get trounced by this lad,” he said, gesturing to the squire, who gave a half bow and a smile.

Belle laughed. “I do need to speak with my father, but I hope to see you later?” She saw his eyes go wide in surprise. “I mean if that’s, um, that’s alright?”

He nodded quickly, and she smiled again before hurrying off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maurice paced back and forth behind his desk as he waited for his daughter. He went over what he’d said to Leopold days ago when they had first met and decided to marry Belle to Gaston. He wouldn’t let his only child be married to any man who would treat her poorly, but at the same time he could ill afford to let her take her time with finding a match herself, much less her misguided desire to fall in love. They needed security and assurances. They needed to be prepared for war.

There had been more skirmishes along the border and one small, unnamed village had been reduced to rubble save for the mill tower. People were fleeing south and west, refugees had already started arriving and if they weren’t careful the city’s supplies wouldn’t be enough to see the swelling population through the winter.

“Father?” Belle said as she came through the door. “You wanted to see me?”

Maurice frowned. “I sent a page for you hours ago, child. Where have you been?”

She crossed her arms and did her best to look affronted. “I took a walk through the courtyard.”

“And sat on a bench under a tree and got lost in a book?” he asked with a slight smile.

“No,” she insisted. “I ran into Sir Rumplestiltskin, if you must know.”

Her father seemed a bit surprised, but nodded and waved a hand for her to sit. She settled herself in one of the large upholstered chairs and arranged her skirts while her father moved around the side of the desk to sit as well.

“The Duke and Gaston are on their way, and should arrived by tomorrow evening,” he said, carefully, watching her eyes and her face for a reaction.

She sighed. “You’re really going to make me do this.”

It was a statement more than a question, and Maurice sighed too. “Belle -”

She put up a hand and he stopped speaking. She stared at her hands folded in her lap. “No, I know. I don’t want to hear it all again. It’s - it’s fine.”

Maurice got up and walked around the desk to where Belle sat, and leaned against the edge of the desk, half sitting on it. “I know it’s not fine, dearest. But, I have spoken with King Leopold and I will say the same to Duke Humbert when he arrives. If you meet Gaston, spend time with him, and find his character to be unacceptable, then we will consider an alternative.”

The Princess looked up and immediately grabbed her father’s hand. “You will?”

He nodded and then looked down at their hands. “It is the least I can do, I think.” Then he looked up and met her eyes. “You are making a sacrifice. I know this isn’t what you want, but it is what must be done.”

Belle swallowed. “I know.”

Her voice was shaky, heavy with emotion. She was glad that they had at least considered what she might want, and it did make her less fearful of ending up with a brute for a husband, but none of this was remotely what she wanted. She had known this is how it would be in the end, but that didn’t make it easier to accept. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh, please, my dear,” Maurice pleaded. “No more tears. It - it won’t be so bad. You just have to be brave.”

Belle sniffled and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mother’s words ran through her head: _Do the brave thing_. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, forcing a smile for her father, who seemed to believe it was genuine, and smiled as well.

She stood and gave her father’s hands a shake before letting go of them, and then adjusted her skirts once more. “I’d like to visit the market today.”

Maurice frowned, feeling a little confused by her sudden change of thought. “I don’t think -”

“Nonsense,” she interrupted. “It’s the quarterly market, all the merchants are there, and it’s likely to be the last one for a while if we’re at war before winter.”

He nodded, finding the face she made a bit too reminiscent of her mother, and gave her a beseeching look. 

Then she added, “I’ll need some new books to get me through, you know.”

She gave him a real grin this time, and he let out a short laugh. “Yes, I suppose you will.” Then he sighed. “But I don’t like the idea of you going alone. You will need an escort and guards.” 

At that moment the door to the study opened and Rumplestiltskin entered, lead by a guard, and trailed by a page.

The King turned to Rumplestiltskin and smiled. “Sir Knight, I hear you have been declared completely healed. We are most fortunate you were not injured worse.”

Rumplestiltskin bowed to the King and Princess, and caught Belle’s eyes briefly. She flashed him a small smile. “Your Majesties,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality and the service of your physicians. I don’t think I would have healed so well or so fast without their potions and herbs.”

“Think nothing of it,” Maurice replied with a nod. “It is the least we can do. Now as to the matter of -”

Belle stepped up and touched her father’s arm, interrupting him again. “Sir Rumplestiltskin can escort me, father. Then I will have no need of an entourage of guards.”

Rumplestiltskin looked back and forth between the King and Princess, confused. “Escort, Your Grace?”

“To the market,” she explained. “I want to see it before war or snow or both makes it the last one for some time.”

She watched Rumplestiltskin with wide eyes until he bowed his head slightly and said, “I would once again be honored.”

She looked back to her father and waited until he nodded his agreement. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed, turning half way around and causing her gown to swish about her legs. Then she took one of Rumplestiltskin’s hands. “Come find me in my chambers as soon as my father is done with you.”

“Of course, Y-your Grace,” he replied, feeling slightly dazed.

Belle gave both men a bright smile and then left the room, hurrying back to her bedroom to change.

 

 

* * *

 

 

To Rumplestiltskin the market seemed to be an endless maze of color and noise and people. Wooden stalls were lined up in rows over the festival square for the regular vendors, while smaller hawkers had set up makeshift shops using carts and baskets down the two main streets, squeezing in between the buildings of established merchants. Princess Belle seemed to know almost all of them, smiling and giving a pleasant greeting to most, and even stopping to chat with a few of them at length. 

She carried a basket looped over her left arm to hold the small trinkets she purchased, and her right arm was linked with his as she guided him down this aisle and that. He had never been more pleased to have that damn sling off his arm, even if it was still a bit stiff from not being used. She seemed to be mindful of his injury because she was holding his arm very softly, hardly doing more than applying a light pressure to get him to move one way or another rather than pulling.

Even though he disliked large crowds, the bustle of the marketplace felt happy and everything seemed so alive and bright. It felt as if everyone was determined to enjoy one of the last nice days of the year, and perhaps one of the last markets for a while. He was quite content to be lead wherever his Princess liked as long as her arm was tucked around his.

Belle hadn’t felt this content in days. Rumplestiltskin walked beside her, keeping pace and never trying to direct her one way or another. He must have washed before he came to find her because there was just the slightest hint of pine from the soaps she’d had put in his room. They were very fine and almost the same as the ones her father used. It was a fresh, comforting scent to her.

“So have you enjoyed your stay in Avonlea?” she asked, pausing by a baker’s cart of fresh breads.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, moving up beside her and taking a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the wonderful yeasty aroma. “The castle is beautiful, my room is quite comfortable, and the food is probably the best I’ve ever had.”

“Good.” She smiled. “I’m glad.”

“But the company,” he started, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly as he looked at her, “well that is - unparalleled.”

She flushed and gasped quietly, stunned for a moment. With all the times he stuttered and seemed awkward or shy, she had never expected such words from him. They made her feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with the blush of her cheeks. Turning away from him, she selected two of the smaller rolls from the cart and placed them in her basket, then handed over a few copper coins to the baker.

“I- uh, I’m sorry,” he said after a few minutes of her not looking at him. “Did I offend -?”

“No!” she insisted, glancing up at him. She took a breath and watched the ground as they walked a few more steps. “I was just, um, surprised th-that’s all.”

He dipped his head to try to see her face, and when she saw him out of the corner of her eye she stopped. “I’m sorry,” she said earnestly.

He shook his head, but before he could say anything, she let go of his arm and whirled around, gasping in surprise.

“Oh! This is my favorite shop!” She turned back to him, beaming.

He looked up at the shop sign. _Handley’s Books_. Then there was a sudden, sharp tug on his arm and he caught himself lurching forward and stumbling up the short steps to the door of the shop.

Inside it smelled like leather and paper and the comfort of old things. It was a bit dark, and Rumplestiltskin noticed there were bookcases on every wall, some covering windows which were shuttered closed. Most of the shelves were filled with books, but some held stacks of paper or parchment, quills for writing, bottles of ink, and small lap desks for writing.

“Greetings, Master Handley!” she called out.

A tall, older man with a white fringe of hair circling his head came out from between two shelves, smiling widely. “Welcome back, Your Majesty.”

Belle gave him that little tilt of her head and her small indulgent smile. “Master Handley, how many times must I ask you to call me Belle?”

“At least once more, Your Grace,” he replied, bowing at the waist.

Then they both broke into a grin and she hurried forward to take the man’s hands in hers. He smiled down at her, and Rumplestiltskin got the sense that had known each other for many years. There was a fondness in the man’s eyes not unlike that for a child and it pulled at Rumplestiltskin’s heart. Princess Belle was truly liked, loved even, by her people, her father, even the servants who bustled about the castle. He wondered what that would be like, to have the respect, admiration, and love of good people.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

He heard Princess Belle’s voice call out to him in question and he snapped out of his thoughts to look at her. She looked bemused.

“Uh, I’m sorry, my lady, I was just taking in all of these lovely things.” He gestured around him to indicate all of Handley’s wares, and smiled a bit sheepishly.

“I was just saying, Master Handley,” she said, looking from Rumplestiltskin to the older man and back again, “that this is Sir Rumplestiltskin, our newest hero and knight of the realm.”

Master Handley stepped forward and held out his hand. “Honored to meet you, Sir. I had heard rumors about you slaying a dragon. If our King anointed you so, then they must be true.”

Rumplestiltskin could feel his face grow hot. “Yes, they would be true. Fortunately, or unfortunately.”

Handley laughed at his self-deprecation and looked back to the Princess. “Your Majesty there are some fine new additions in the back, if you’d like to take a look.”

He gave Belle a little wink and she laughed. “I shall, Master Handley, but I always like to look at all the shelves in case you’ve slipped in something new in another subject.”

Handley inclined his head in a slow nod and then moved off with a smile to go back to what he had been working on.

Belle had mentioned a love of books and reading, and had even told Rumplestiltskin about some of her favorite stories, but to see her this excited was something else. She was like a brunette whirlwind in a green dress, moving from one shelf to another, pulling books out, flipping them open to peruse the beginnings, and then seconds later turning to look at another. He followed dutifully, eyeing the spines of some of the books, smiling at some of the more interesting or funny sounding titles, pulling a face at the ones that seemed boring or strange. 

As he was wondering why anyone would need an entire book on styles of carriage wheels, Belle turned to him and touched his arm. His head snapped to her to see her smiling and holding three books in a stack in her arms. A moment later she pushed them into his with a quick _hold these_ , and then turned away again.

Belle froze, realizing what she had done. She had been so used to having people escort her when she went shopping, guards and a servant or two who were used to her handing them things to hold or asking them to fetch things for her. She always tried to be polite and considerate about it, but she often got lost in her own thoughts, especially when she was in Handley’s shop.

She gave Rumplestiltskin a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry! I meant, would you be so kind, Sir?” she asked, try to look properly apologetic. 

The she frowned. “If - if you’re arm is truly healed, that is. They get quite heavy, and - and I don’t want you to feel like you have to but -”

“Belle,” he said softly, successfully interrupting her rambling apology. He smiled at her and adjusted the books she’d foisted on him until they were stable across his arms. Then he held out the stack ready for her to pile more books on them and smiled. “As my Lady commands.”

Belle bit her lip and grinned. There was something about the way he said her name, about the way he said _my lady_ that made her feel pleasantly warm. She enjoyed his company, and he had said he enjoyed hers as well, which was a bit new for her. She’d never spent time in the company of a man who wasn’t her father or one of the castle’s many servants. If he hadn’t been a knight it would have been almost scandalous for a princess to go around the market shopping and holding the arm of a man who wasn’t her betrothed or a relative.

The thought of her betrothed, of Gaston, a man she’d meet for the first time tomorrow, had her feeling pensive again. She turned away from Rumplestiltskin and went back to meandering her way to the rear of the shop. Handley kept the stories of adventure and mythology, Belle’s favorites, in the back, along with books of children’s poetry and fables.

By the time they left the shop, there were eight new books to be delivered to the castle and Rumplestiltskin’s left arm was aching again. This time it was from lugging books around and not being injured by a dragon. He thought it was absolutely worth it though, just to see the delight on Princess Belle’s face.

They started to wind their way back towards the castle, arm in arm as they had been nearly all afternoon. Rumplestiltskin glanced sideways at the Princess and frowned. She seemed to get more reticent the closer they got to the edge of the market until the conversation stopped entirely. It wasn’t that he was opposed to walking quietly the rest of the way, it was just strange. In the entire time he’d known her she had only been reluctant to speak once, when they were in the garden and she spoke of her father’s plans to arrange her marriage.

“My Lady?” he said softly, bumping her side with their joined arms. “Is something wrong?”

She sighed and looked up at the sky for a moment before she looked to the side at Rumplestiltskin. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just a little tired from all the walking.”

He nodded but didn’t believe her. “It’s been a long afternoon.”

“But a nice one,” she added with a smile in his direction. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

He gave a nod of his head and smiled back. “It was my pleasure, My Lady.”

Her smiled widened a little as she teased him. “That’s a change from _Your Grace_ and _Your Majesty_.”

“Uh, well, I thought that -” He stopped and swallowed, pressing his clammy right hand against his breeches.

She laughed and bumped against his side as he had done to her earlier. “I’m teasing! I don’t mind. You should be less formal with me since we’re friends.”

_Friends._

“W-we are?” His eyes were wide as he pulled her to the side and stopped walking. “Friends?”

She nodded. “Of course. When we’re alone you can even call me Belle, if you like.”

He blanched but when she smiled again he returned it. He could scarcely believe how his life had changed in only a week. He killed a dragon, became a knight, and made friends with a princess.

“I - um, yes, I would like that,” he finally replied. 

She patted his arm and they moved to continue on, but she quickly paused again after only a few steps. Her head tilted and her brow furrowed as she looked across the cobblestone road at a merchant’s stall.

“Was that there before?” she asked, pointing at the small berth.

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I don’t know, My Lady. It must have been, right?”

The stall seemed fairly non-descript. It was wooden like the others with a brightly colored cloth banner draped over the top for shade. Inside there were small shelves but he couldn’t make out what was on them at this distance. There were a myriad of sparkling objects that appeared to be hanging from the cloth ceiling, however, shining in the yellow-orange glow of the sun as it began to set.

“I must have missed it,” she reasoned.

Then she tugged his arm, smiled, and they crossed the street.

The stall was filled with what looked like random junk to Rumplestiltskin. The sparkles turned out to be crystal prisms dangling from fine strings or silver chains and they had been attached to little hooks and poked through the cloth covering the top of the stand. From the right angle it looked like every surface was covered in rainbows and it was quite pretty.

Belle was quite delighted with the crystals and reached up to touch several of them, sending them wobbling and spinning. Then her eyes settled on a shelf in the back where there was a set of large tombs leaned against each other and then tipped up next to an iron statue of a horse.

She made a soft _oh_ noise and Rumplestiltskin barely held back a laugh when he saw what she was looking at. Of course she was interested in the books.

“Excuse me,” Belle called out, squinting to see if there was a merchant about. “I’d like to see your books.”

“Of course, my dear,” came a gravelly, frail voice.

A bent old man with long, dark gray hair and a matching long beard came out of the shadows. His skin was very tanned and his narrow frame was wrapped in dark red robes, a style Belle had seen in art from Agrabah. He reached up with a bony arm and thin, skeletal fingers to grasp one of the books and pull it down.

“I am honored you wish to view my wares,” he said, setting the book in front of her on the wooden counter.

Belle smiled. “Thank you.” She flipped open the large volume’s dark green cover and turned a few pages to see what it contained.

Rumplestiltskin could see the book was written in the old tongue and heavily decorated with a scrolling pattern of ivy and thorny branches drawn around the margin of every page. It was definitely handwritten, the script and spacing varying a little from one line to the next, and he thought it must have taken whoever wrote it ages to write something so long and so ornate.

The Princess gasped when she turned to the next page and came to a very elaborate drawing of a knight thrusting his sword into the belly of a great serpent-like beast. Beside the horsed knight was a woman wearing what looked like the same style of robes as the old man, except there were no billowing sleeves. The cloth also draped down in the front and bared one of her breasts, and Belle’s hand reached out, tentatively, to touch the edge of the page.

Rumplestiltskin raise his eyebrows at the image. It wasn’t common to see images in any but the most expensive and precious books. None of the ones the Princess had purchased today had such a thing in them, much less anything so… _provocative._

“It’s beautiful,” Belle said softly. Her fingers continued to trace the bottom edge of the page, but her eyes were glued to the image of the knight and the maiden. She swallowed and licked her lips, firmly denying her mind’s wandering ways.

“You like it?” the old man inquired, leaning forward.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t like the look of the man, but he didn’t know why. There was a feeling he got when the merchant spoke that sent shivers down his spine. The stall was very random, filled with a mishmash of trinkets, but many of them appeared to be of low quality. They were the kind Rumplestiltskin had seen his whole life because that was all his aunts and the people of their tiny village could afford. It was odd that a merchant who seemed to be from such a rich city as Agrabah would bother with such trivialities, and then place clearly old and valuable books on a back shelf almost entirely out of sight.

“How much for this one?” Belle asked. Then she took a hasty breath and asked, “How much for all four?”

Rumplestiltskin startled beside her, but she paid him no mind. There was something about the books that called to her. She could just barely read the old tongue, but she knew enough to tell that the book she was looking at contained very old stories, myths and legend from beyond the kingdoms she knew. They were the kind of stories the kind she longed to read. 

She could see herself sitting on a couch by the fire, one of these books in her lap and some scraps of paper to jot down translations as she read. She would lose herself in the old, forgotten tales and likewise forget her troubles for a time. They would get her through the long winter and an even longer war.

The old man’s trilling laugh shook her from her thoughts and she looked up to find his twisted, wrinkled face alarmingly close to hers. She jumped back and bumped against Rumplestiltskin which made her gasp again, and then laugh nervously.

“I’m not sure you could afford them, my lady,” the old man said. “They are quite old and quite expensive. _Very_ precious.”

He wagged his finger back and forth at her, smiling around yellow stained teeth. Rumplestiltskin felt something sink in his gut and he unconsciously rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. It was something he hadn’t felt the need to do at all while they visited the market, despite the numerous people and strange faces all around them. There was definitely something off about this man, however enfeebled he seemed.

Belle laughed and smiled. “Oh, the castle can pay any price as long as it’s fair.”

“The castle?” The old man frowned. “You come from the castle?”

She nodded, still smiling. “Yes, of course, it’s my father’s castle.”

The old man’s face softened a bit and his eyes brightened. “Ah!” He exclaimed and clapped his hands together happily. “Then I am very honored indeed to serve the Princess of Avonlea.”

He gave her a less than graceful half bow and then turned to the shelf again, removing the remaining three tomes. They were large and had to be very heavy, but he moved them as if they were any other books and stacked them in front of the Princess.

Belle’s eyes lit up even more. The binding of each one was a different color of dyed leather, well worn and embossed with strange symbols on the covers. Her fingers gingerly touched the top one, feeling the roughness of the aged hide.

“They are truly beautiful,” she said. Her breathing was strangely shallow and her head felt oddly cloudy, but the books were so pretty, so intriguing, and so old. They were all of her weaknesses combined. 

“How much for all of them?” she asked again, a bit breathless.

The old man let out another harsh giggle, and Rumplestiltskin winced. It was a grating, terrible sound when combined with the man’s already hoarse voice. The merchant pondered a moment and then named a price that was three times what she had spent on the books she’d purchased at Handley’s shop, but she nodded briskly and dug in the pouch in her basket for the coins. The old man took them gleefully and stuck them in a pocket in his robes.

She brushed her hand over one of the covers again. “Can you have them delivered to the castle, or should I send someone for them?”

The man gave her a sickly sweet smile. “Oh, they will arrive before sundown, my dear Princess, don’t you worry.”

Rumplestiltskin’s skin crawled and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “We should get back to the castle, my lady.”

The old man shot him a glare. “Perhaps you would like to see some of my other items? Or sample a taste of far off lands?”

Belle perked up at that. “Oh! From where?”

“From Agrabah and the Empire, and even lands far beyond those,” he teased. Then he turned and rummaged behind him in a large crate.

“Beyond Agrabah and the Empire?” she asked. It was hard to imagine such a thing. The world was so big and she had seen so little of it. To even taste something from other lands was a delight to her senses.

Rumplestiltskin bristled and leaned in close so his voice was only for her ears. “My lady I don’t trust this man. We should leave now.”

She pulled back and pouted at him. “Nonsense. I won’t purchase anything else. We’ll just try a little, and then we can go.” She smiled, and he nodded, acquiescing to her wishes.

“As my lady commands,” he muttered, eyeing the trader once more. His hand tightened around over the pommel of his sword.

The bent old man finally turned back to them, holding a goblet and a carafe of what looked like wine. He smiled that rotten toothed smile again as he poured the red liquid into the goblet. Rumplestiltskin stared at the cup with suspicion.

And then he saw it.

The little bubbles fizzing up the side for a moment like the old man was pouring ale or cider instead of wine. Wine only did that if you poured it too fast, and the merchant wasn't. In fact he was being almost overly careful, pouring at a steady rate, but the edge of the goblet kept bubbling. The man stopped and set the pitcher down, and then raised the cup and offered it to Princess Belle.

Belle smiled and gave him a nod in thanks, licking her lips as she anticipated the possible flavors she might taste. She took the proffered goblet and lifted it slightly in salute to the elderly man, and then raised it to her mouth.

Rumplestiltskin looked from the Princess to the merchant and saw a dark, gleeful grin spread slowly across the man's face. It was feral and twisted, his oddly forked tongue flicking out over his lips. His gaze jerked back to Belle just as the edge of the cup touched her bottom lip, and he reacted.

One second the cup was at her lips, the next she felt something swipe at her hand, batting the goblet and knocking it away. The wine trailed and dripped on her dress it as it fell, landing on the ground and splashing up at her skirts. Her mouth hung open in shock, her eyes wide, but then she heard a sharp, shrieking cry. She looked up to see the old man pointing at her and Rumplestiltskin standing between them, and for another moment she was very confused, and a little angry that he’d pushed her out of the way.

Then she felt something, a draft or a cooling breeze and looked down to see several gaping holes in the skirts of her dress, and in front of her feet, the ground was smoldering with a sickly green smoke. She staggered backwards, her hands clutched to her chest, afraid to touch her dress. The holes looked like they had been burned into the fabric, they curled at the edges and blackened the cloth.

Rumplestiltskin glanced back at her, and she saw how frightened he was by the wide look in his eyes. The old man was still shrieking at them, but his face was twisted, contorting hideously. Then he folded in on himself, grabbing at his robes, and it was Belle’s turn to scream as she watched the skin on the backs of his hands turn a greyish green. Something rippled over his entire body, engulfing him in a dark shimmer, and she realized it must be magic.

“Stay back, my lady!” Rumplestiltskin yelled, drawing his sword to point it at the being that used to be the old merchant.

Belle gasped and stepped back further, covering her mouth with her hands. She tried to remember to breathe, breathe steady her nurse had said to her when she had nightmares, but her heart was in her throat and everything felt painfully tight.

The new creature that stood where the old man had been let out a menacing cackle, a frightening combination of his high pitched giggle and a deep, manic laugh.

“Oh, my dear,” it said, staring straight at the Princess. “King George will not be happy about this.”

Belle looked at the - _thing_ -, horrified.“King _George_?”

It laughed again. “He only wanted to toast your pending nuptials. Pay proper respect to you and your betrothed.”

“What are you?” Rumplestiltskin shouted.

“Not _what_ ,” the creature barked. His odd tongue slipped out again, flicking spittle at Rumplestiltskin. “ _Who_.”

“The Dark One,” Belle gasped from behind him, and Rumplestiltskin jerked his head around to gape at her. “He-he’s the Dark One.”

The Dark One giggled again and the merchant’s stall dissolved around him in a black and purple smoke. The miscellaneous objects that had cluttered the shelves, along with the books the Princess had purchased, dropped to the ground around him. He straightened and shrugged his shoulders, the robes that had hung off his bent form shifting and confusing Rumplestiltskin’s eyes until they settled into the long black robes the clerics typically wore, the cowl draped over his head so that it was cast entirely in shadow. His eyes glowed yellow from within.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hissed.

“Are you - are you allied with King George?” Rumplestiltskin asked. Then he swallowed thickly, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his sword. His palm was sweaty but his gloves were tucked in his belt and there was no time to put them on. He hoped that if he had to use his weapon that it wouldn’t slip.

The Dark One growled, and then grinned as Rumplestiltskin and the Princess move backwards. “I ally with no one.”

“Then why are you here?” Belle demanded. “What reason do you have to kill me?”

“My poison wouldn’t have killed you,” he snarled, lips curling in a sneer. “I go where I am commanded, sweetling. Whether I desire to or not.”

Belle frowned, struggling to understand what he was trying to say, the true meaning between his words. Her head was hurting and she felt dizzy. Was it magic being used against her?

A crowd had gathered behind them quietly, no one willing to shout or call for help, too afraid of what the Dark One might do. Rumplestiltskin kept himself between Belle and the Dark One, fearing his sword would be useless against the magic wielded by such a powerful, feared creature. But he was determined to do whatever he had to do to protect the Princess.

“You think your knight can protect you, _Princess_?” the Dark One warned, fixing his eyes on Belle. Then his eyes darted to Rumplestiltskin. “And _you_ think you are brave enough to try to put a sword in me?”

Rumplestiltskin tensed and shifted his stance, as ready as he could be to strike. “Leave now, or -”

“Or _what_?” the sorcerer snapped. “You can’t touch me. Nor can you touch King George so long as he is under my _protection_.”

The way he spat out the word protection made Belle even more uneasy. The Dark One could have easily killed them with a thought or a snap of his fingers, if the stories were to be believed. His power was supposedly limitless. If he had come here to kill them, why were they still alive?

“Hear me, Princess,” the Dark One said. His bony finger was pointed at her again, and she felt the air thicken and press in around her. “My _master_ is most displeased that your father broke their agreement. Displeased enough that he sent _me_ as a warning. Next time you see me, your _knight_ won’t be able to save you.”

A whirl of dark purple smoke came up around him and when it cleared he was gone.

Rumplestiltskin hesitantly sheathed his sword and turned around to face the Princess who fell into his arms, sobbing. Her hands gripped the front of his jerkin, her face was pressed into the crook of his neck as she shook. Half dazed, he held onto her, keeping her upright as she sagged against him. A moment later, guards came pushing through the crowd, surrounding them, too late to be of any use.

Rumplestiltskin asked one of them to fetch a carriage from the castle or at least a horse. He wasn’t sure the Princess could walk that far in her state.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she said, her voice quivering. He pushed her back a bit so he could see her face. It was streaked with tears, her eyes were red and puffy. “You’ll save me, right? What h-he said -”

“Hush, Belle. It’s alright,” he said, pulling her to him again. “I’ll protect you.”

She nodded into his chest and sighed, and he felt some of the tension go out of her. She seemed to trust in him, believe that he could really save her from the Dark One. He just wished he could believe it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Dark One is a weird combination of bits of DO!Rumple, DO!Zoso, and an evil Merlin. I hope he meets with approval. There will be more description of him forthcoming as Rumple and Belle recount and relive their eventful trip to the market.


	5. An Act of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning home after the incident at the market, Belle has some thoughts about Rumplestiltskin, and then meets her new fiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried really hard to make Gaston likable. Basically, he's not a bad guy, he's just not the right guy for Belle. This is a bit of a Belle heavy chapter, but needs must. I love all the comments you've been leaving. You're all wonderful. Thank you! Also once again this would be trash without marcasite cleaning up after me.

Belle continued to cling to Rumplestiltskin, the two of them surrounded by the city guards, until she heard the sound of carriage wheels approaching.

Her hands ached when she finally let go of him, her cheeks and jaw hurt from crying, and her knees were probably going to bruise from kneeling on the cobblestones for so long. She pulled away, feeling his hands trail down her arms as she shifted back and let out a shuddering breath. Her hands swiped over her cheeks and eyes, brushing away the last traces of her tears. She knew she must look like a mess and all she wanted was her room and her bed and the safety of home, however safe it could be now that the Dark One had her in his sights.

_The Dark One!_

Her mind was still reeling and foggy, and her head was pounding in time with the horses’ hooves as the carriage rolled up and stopped near them.

Rumplestiltskin touched her shoulder hesitantly and asked, “Can you stand, my lady?”

She nodded, feeling like if she tried to speak she might start crying again. He took gentle hold of her arms and helped her to her feet, and she gave him a tight, frail smile in thanks. He kept hold of her arm as she took the few steps to the carriage and climbed in.

Rumplestiltskin spoke to one of the royal guards that arrived with the coach, and Belle saw the man nod, frown, and then blanche. She looked away and shut her eyes, knowing what had probably been said.

A moment later, Rumplestiltskin climbed into the carriage and sat across from her. She looked over at him and he smiled. Despite everything it was warm and much more relaxed than hers, and she caught herself smiling back.

The carriage lurched into movement and Belle’s stomach churned. She felt like a raw nerve, shocked violently by even the slightest of sensations. A burn rose up in her eyes again, and she squeezed them shut, willing herself not to cry. She was surprised she was even able to after the sobs that had wracked her body in the market square.

He must have sensed or seen her discomfort because a moment later Rumplestiltskin reached across the space their feet occupied and laid his hand over hers. It was just the warm, comforting presence she needed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maurice was pacing back and forth behind the desk in his study. He picked at a thumbnail as he stepped quickly from the shelves on one side of the room, to his chair, and back again, until the nail tore, ripping down to the quick. Wincing, he sucked the finger into his mouth and tasted the metallic tang of his own blood.

At that same moment, the doors swung open and his daughter came through, nearly stumbling as she hurried to embrace him.

“Belle,” Maurice gasped. “My girl, I was so worried.”

Belle squeezed her father tight. “I know, Papa.”

He faltered at hearing that word again, the one she called him when she was barely as tall as the tops of his boots. “Belle,” he breathed, shifting his arms to wrap them tighter around her.

He rested his cheek on top of her head and she pushed her face into the opening of his cloak. For a few moments they were simply a relieved, loving father and daughter.

Eventually, Belle pulled back, smiling though her eyes were wet with fresh tears. Maurice looked down at his daughter, his chest aching. He felt a pang of loss even though she was here with him, the sting of old wounds that were fresher than he liked to believe.

“You are alright, aren’t you?” he asked, a choking feeling tightening his throat. He looked down with concern at her tattered dress, frowning and gesturing to the burn-like holes. “You weren’t harmed?”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together, fighting to hold back her tears. “I’m fine, Papa.” Then she looked back over her shoulder at Rumplestiltskin, who was still hovering near the door, and smiled at him. “He kept me safe.”

Maurice looked across the room to Rumplestiltskin and nodded. “Thank you, Sir Rumplestiltskin. I’m not certain that what I’ve given you can thank you even for saving my daughter.”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and moved closer. “It’s no matter, Your Grace. I was - happy - to have been there.”

The King nodded again and looked back at Belle. “We are all happy you were there, Sir.”

Belle left thereafter, saying she needed to get out of her ruined dress, and Maurice insisted she also see the royal physicians to make sure she was indeed unharmed. The Knight stayed for a bit, relaying the details of what happened to the King, and then left as well.

King Leopold arrived shortly thereafter, so frantic after hearing what had happened to Belle at the market that the lacings on the front of his vest were crooked, two eyelets missed on the left side, and his cloak was pinned unevenly. He held on to it as he walked to keep it from sagging over his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?” he exclaimed.

Maurice sighed and shook his head, dropping into one of the chairs by the fire and motioning for Leopold to do the same. After the other King was settled, Maurice relayed the entire affair as Rumplestiltskin had told it to him.

After Maurice finished, Leopold sat quietly for a few moments, tugging at his beard. “We have to consider this a direct act of war,” he said, finally.

Maurice nodded. “I know. But if the Dark One is allied with George -?”

Leopold pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we have to face the Dark One in battle, it won’t be much of a battle, never mind a war.”

Maurice stood abruptly and went back to pacing, the stress finally too much for him to stay still. “But what else can we do? I have to keep my kingdom _and_ my daughter safe. Must I do one at the expense of the other?”

“I don’t know, my friend,” Leopold answered. “I do know that Estoria will stand with you, that I will stand with you.” Then he got up and moved to place himself in Maurice’s path as he paced. “Though I’m afraid this means we need to move up the wedding date.”

“Oh gods!” the King groaned. “Belle will hate me.”

“Probably,” Leopold said with a shrug and a smirk, moving aside so Maurice could keep pacing. 

Leopold leaned against the bookcase. “What else can you do? We have to make ourselves as strong as possible. It’s the only way to protect what we love.”

Maurice nodded solemnly, and Leopold took his leave

After he was alone again, Maurice sagged in one of the large upholstered chairs. He stared at the fire for some time, recalling the events of the market as they had been relayed to him. He could imagine parts of it quite clearly, but the way the Dark One had changed form before their eyes? It was too strange. The worst was his mind seemed unable to stop imagining the worst, that the evil sorcerer would come for his daughter as promised, probably come for him as well, for their lands and their people. He bent his head, and wept.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle reclined on the sofa by the fireplace, a book held loosely in her hands. She hadn’t read more than two lines, too preoccupied with the events of the day to focus. All she’d done since returning to the castle was take a bath and change into a different dress. It was one of her older ones, a light blue bodice and skirt over a creamy white elbow length shift. It was a bit worn, but very comfortable, and it wasn’t as if she planned on attending a royal ball or anything. Ruby had suggested she rest and put on a nightgown, tuck herself into bed, but Belle had refused.

She did try to lay down after a little while, but she was too wound up and restless. A book usually calmed her, but not this time, not when she knew the Dark One could be coming for her any day. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, the glowing yellow eyes present behind her eyelids every time she shut them.

She could still recall the Dark One’s face, the way the magic twisted it as he turned from the hobbled little old man into his true form, his skin stretching before it reshaped. She didn’t know if it was a trick of the eye and the way the magic worked, or a purposefully gruesome display. Even the smoke that had enveloped him was horrible. It had a strange scent, acrid like sulfur, but also sour and vinegary. She hadn’t expected magic to have a taste or smell. After it dissipated there was a metallic taste in her mouth, coppery like blood, but very light.

She also remembered how it felt like the air was too thick, how there was a constant, steady pressure on her chest. Maybe it was a warning, a hint of what the Dark One could and would do to her when he -

The fire snapped and Belle jumped, knocking her book to the floor. She took a breath and rolled her neck, stretching her arms up over her head and her legs out towards the hearth. She’d been sitting for too long, lost in her thoughts, so she stood up and picked up her dropped book. The book was set on her small writing desk, and she moved to the window to peek out into the garden.

She started again when someone knocked on her bedroom door, pressing a hand over her thumping heart as she called out for them to enter. Ruby glanced around the edge of the door before moving into the room, wrapped packages in her arms. She was followed by a page who carried more packages in plain brown paper.

Belle smiled. They were Handley’s books, delivered as promised at the end of the day. “Put them on the desk, please,” she instructed, moving away from the window.

Ruby checked to see that the page had left before she grinned and shook her head at the Princess. “Bought half the shop, I see.”

Belle laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh hush. I’m going to need _something_ to get through this winter.” She sighed after she spoke and looked thoughtful, her hand reaching out to trace the twine tied top to bottom and side to side around the book, tied in the middle of the cover with a bow over the wrapping paper.

Ruby sighed too, and nodded. “Are you sure you’re alright, my lady?”

Belle pulled her hand back from the books and held it out towards Ruby until the other woman took it in both of her hands. “I’m fine, I promise. Rumplestiltskin was there to protect me.”

Ruby gave her friend a knowing look. “Good thing he was. Hmm?”

The Princess pulled a face. “Don’t, Ruby. He’s my friend. You think every boy or man I’ve spent more than five minutes with is a potential suitor.”

The maid looked affronted. “I do not! But you do fancy him a little, don’t you?”

“No.” Bell shook her head. “He’s just - just a friend. He can only ever _be_ just a friend. I’m _engaged_ , Ruby. I might as well be _married_ already!” 

She surprised herself at her sudden outburst and stepped away from her friend, going back to the window to breathe in some fresher, colder air. The room suddenly felt stifling.

“You aren’t married yet, Princess,” Ruby said. “And Gaston may turn out to be exactly what you want.”

“I somehow doubt that,” she muttered. “Leave me, please. I - I just want to be alone.”

Ruby curtsied and left, taking the tray of supper with her. It had barely been touched.

Belle fought off another round of tears and decided she needed a walk in the garden. Turning to leave, she saw something sitting on her bed and stopped. There were 4 more brown paper wrapped packages, tied with twine, sitting in the middle of the mattress. She frowned and moved cautiously towards the bed. The packages looked like boxes or thick books, but she already had all of the ones she’d bought from Handley.

She froze, hand hovering over the top of the stack, unable to breathe. There was a creeping, sick feeling in her stomach, and she suddenly felt cold, goosebumps rising over her bare arms. She swallowed and steeled herself, then tugged on the string tied around the top one. The paper fell open to reveal a book, an old one bound in aged leather with odd symbols embossed on the front.

It was one of the four books she had unknowingly purchased from the Dark One.

When she had thought he was just an old merchant he had assured her she would have them by sundown. She looked up and towards the open window, watching the last red-orange remnants of the sun start to sink below the horizon, and swallowed hard.

It seemed the Dark One kept his promises.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t sit still. He kept sitting on the sofa, then trying to lay on the bed, then pacing around the small table. It had taken him forever to fall asleep the night before and it seemed he was still filled with the same restless energy this morning.

Part of him wanted to run and find Princess Belle, just to confirm she was really safe and sound with his own eyes. Being confronted by the Dark One had shaken both of them, and he suspected that she had probably slept about as well as he had, if not worse. After all, it wasn’t he who had been threatened with assassination. Maybe they could take tea together. Or he could go for another stroll in the garden, see if she showed up again. Perhaps there was -

 _No_ , he told himself sternly. He was not going to sit here and think up ways to run into the Princess. They’d known each other for only little more than a week. She had said they were friends, but what did that really mean? And why this sudden need to rush off and find her?

It most certainly had nothing to do with the impending arrival of her betrothed, that was for sure.

He shook his head and left his quarters, striding quickly down the wide corridor. He would spar some more with the young squire, David, and perhaps Master Emery, the armorer and head of the squires. That would take his mind off things for a while.

The air was much cooler than yesterday, but it felt good to breathe, crisp and fresh. He felt his earlier agitation calming considerably and he smiled as he strode through the courtyard. When he arrived at the armory, however, there was quite an unexpected sight.

A very tall, broad shouldered man with dark wavy hair was swinging a sword around wildly as a small crowd watched. He spun the sword in his hands over his head and then brought it down sharply past his left side in a slicing motion, only to swing it forward and then thrust it backwards under his arm. He turned, keeping a low, steady stance, and spun the sword in an arc in front of him.

The man kept on like that, the sword swinging and gliding in smooth arcs, punctuated with sharp jabs and cuts. It was unlike anything Rumplestiltskin had ever seen. He tore his eyes away and scanned the crowed, surprised to see both King Maurice and King Leopold along with another man he didn’t know. The man was dressed in clothes that indicated nobility and a large gold medallion around his neck that was partially hidden by his cloak.

Off to the side, by the corner of the armory, almost exactly where Rumplestiltskin had spotted her the previous day, was Princess Belle. Her arms were wrapped around her torso, holding her cloak closed, as she worried her lip between her teeth. She looked towards her father and then at the man in the ring, frowning slightly, before her eyes were drawn across the practice ring to settle on Rumplestiltskin.

Her eyes widened for a moment and then she smiled, raising a hand in a small wave. He returned her greeting and made his way around the edge of the ring until he was beside the Princess.

“Quite a show, isn’t it?” she asked, looking up at him with raised eyebrows.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “He’s an impressive fighter. It looks like he’s studied in the Eastern Empire.”

She looked at him curiously. “You’ve been to the Empire?”

He shook his head, lips curving slightly. “No, but I’ve heard about it, about how their knights fight, their code of honor.”

Belle smiled and then looked back to the small arena where the man had finished his demonstration to a few appreciative claps and murmurs of approval. “This knight is Sir Gaston,” she said with a nod towards the tall man who was now making his way towards them. “He’s to be my husband.”

“Oh,” Rumplestiltskin replied, quietly, the breathing whooshing out of him at the realization.

He watched, dumbfounded, as she walked forward to greet the man, wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

_Oh._

 

 

* * *

 

 

There was a feast, of course, celebrating the official betrothal of Princess Belle and Sir Gaston. It was a much smaller affair than what Maurice had originally planned for his daughter’s engagement party, but needs must. They didn’t have time to send out invites to nobility from all over the realm, or plan an extensive menu and ball, especially not now that they knew about the Dark One. 

Bell was quite content to have minimal fuss over her impending wedding almost as much as she would have been quite content to just not have the wedding at all. Three days seemed hardly enough time for her mother’s dress to be altered enough to fit her, much less to get to know her betrothed enough to know if she should marry him.

She sighed and fiddled with her fork, turning a bite of meat over and over on her plate. Next to her Gaston was going on about strategy and troop deployment, along with their fathers and King Leopold. Princess Snow had been excused to take her meal in her room, and Belle found herself quite jealous of the girl and wishing she’d feigned not feeling well or something so she could be excused as well.

So far she couldn’t say that Gaston was good or bad. He had been very courteous during the day, but they’d had little chance to speak to one another without an entourage and their fathers present. Everything had been about welcoming the Duke to Avonlea and signing the necessary documents. The highlight of her day had been her all too brief conversation with Rumplestiltskin while Gaston showed off his weapons prowess. She’d found the demonstration tedious, even if his movements were very elegant and even beautiful in a way, and tried not to think about how watching it differed from when she’d come upon Rumplestiltskin doing much the same thing.

She’d felt something in that moment, watching Rumplestiltskin, and she didn’t know what to think about it. Now, he sat across the table from her and down three chairs, far enough that they couldn’t talk easily, and that bothered her more than she liked. It was days before her wedding, she had just met her husband-to-be that morning. Her mind should be on Gaston, on the few plans there were to make for the ceremony, on how it would feel to put on her mother’s wedding gown. 

Looking up she saw Rumplestiltskin looking back at her. He looked a little startled, as if she had caught him doing something he shouldn’t. She wanted to tell him it was no matter, give him back his own words so he would know she wasn’t the least bit bothered. Instead, she shrugged apologetically and got a small smile in return. Then her father said her name, and she quickly turned her attention to him.

After the meal was done, the Kings and Duke Humbert retired to Maurice’s study to continue their discussions. Belle looked around for Rumplestiltskin, but he was no where to be found. She assumed he must have left immediately, and she sighed as she debated whether she should seek him out.

A hand on her arm brought her out of her thoughts.

She looked up and Gaston smiled down at her. “My lady?” he asked. “Would you like to accompany me for a walk?”

He had a naturally loud, almost booming, voice, but he had soften it a little as he spoke to her. She made herself smile back at him and nod.

“Thank you,” he said, seeming relieved. “I should like to get to know you as much as I can before we are wed.”

“And I you,” she replied. Her throat felt tight as thoughts of their wedding came to the forefront again. Then she squared her shoulders, determined to push her unease to the side, and wrapped her arm over his, letting him lead her out of the dining hall.

At first his strides, though slow enough, were too long, and she had to hurry to keep pace with him. But after a few minutes he seemed to notice and adjusted as best he could, though it felt less leisurely than she would have liked.

“So,” she began, after a prolonged silence where the only sound was the thud of his boots and the lighter tapping of her shoes. “You have trained in the Empire?”

He looked down at her, surprised, but with the slightest twitch of a grin on his lips. “Yes, m’lady. I’m surprised you noticed. I have meet many knights who are unfamiliar with the fighting forms of the East, much less a lady such as yourself.”

“I read a lot,” she said with a shrug. She wouldn’t tell him that the only reason she had any idea at all was that Rumplestiltskin had told her. “Did you spend much time in the Empire?”

“Some,” was his non-committal answer.

She wasn’t sure what to say next, so she kept walking beside him, her anxiety increasing with each step until she thought she might embarrass herself and be sick. She was fretting internally so much that she didn’t notice Gaston had lead her up a short staircase to one of the sitting rooms.

There were several comfortable chairs and couches, a low burning fire that could be easily stoked to life, and small tables for refreshments. But he moved past all of it, to the back of the room, and through a set of double doors to a balcony that overlooked the front of the castle and town.

“We waited here earlier, until King Maurice and King Leopold could attend to us. Your father told me this is one of your favorite views of the town,” Gaston said, looking from the glowing lights of civilization below them to Belle, and back again. “I can see why.”

Belle smiled softly. “Yes, it is. This is one of the rooms I like to sit in and read my books.”

“You read often?” he inquired. He let go of her arm and leaned forward on the wide stone wall of the balcony, resting on his forearms.

Belle moved to stand next to him and found that with him bent over as he was, his face was almost level with hers. Even sitting he’d be so much taller, always looking down at her. She didn’t like the feeling.

“Every chance I get,” she answered, breathing out a short laugh. “I read everything, all kinds of books. But my favorites are the adventures, and the myths and legends from lands beyond our own.”

He smiled at that. “I liked those too, when I was a boy.”

She frowned a little, put off that he would imply she was being immature by what she read for pleasure. “You think me childish because of what I read? Because I enjoy escaping into adventures I’ll never have and places I’ll never see?”

She straightened and folded her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrowed at him when he turned his head to look at her. She almost hoped he’d say the wrong thing, or that he would get angry at her. Then she could run to her father in tears, screaming she wouldn’t marry him and they could just forget the whole thing.

Gaston frowned. “Certainly not,” he said. “I only meant that once I came of age, well, there was no time for stories anymore.” Then he paused and sighed, looking down at his folded hands.

He stood then and turned to the Princess, leaning into the wall with his hip while his hand stretched over the stone wall. “You are lucky, my lady. Your father lets you indulge in things for no more reason than they make you happy. He cares a great deal about your happiness.”

Belle almost scoffed at that, but held herself in check. It would not do to expose her thoughts so quickly to a man who was still a stranger. But then hadn’t she done the same thing to Rumplestiltskin?

“He does,” she agreed. “As I’m sure your father does about your happiness.”

Gaston hesitated, then nodded and pressed his lips together, looking back to the view of the town. 

Her brow furrowed a bit, and she moved closer to her future husband. “You said you spent time in the Empire, have you traveled to many places?”

He nodded again. “I’ve traveled and trained all over the known world, my lady. My father saw my abilities with a sword early on, even when I was a scrawny little thing running around the hedgerows in the garden pretending I was on a great adventure.”

She laughed and tried to imagine a young Gaston running about with a wooden play sword. It was hard to do when faced with the man he was now, tall and strong and as broad as a horse. He was becoming easier to talk to and be around by the minute, and that scared her in a way she didn’t understand.

“So the Duke sent you all over the world to learn how to fight?” she asked.

“I suppose that was his intent.” Gaston shrugged. “I didn’t need to travel for that, there were many weapons masters in our kingdom who could have trained me in almost anything. I think maybe he didn’t quite know what to do with a son who was too old for nurses, but too young to sit on his council.”

He took a breath and was quiet for a bit, then motioned towards the doors. “Let’s go back inside, shall we?”

They moved into the sitting room, settling on the couch nearest to the hearth. Gaston told her stories of his travels, nothing with too much detail though, which left her wanting to ask all sorts of questions about the places and things he’d seen. But he seemed reluctant to say too much. She wasn’t sure if it was because he took her for some delicate flower and was afraid to disturb her mind with violent or strange images, or if there was something painful about his experiences he didn’t wish to recall.

“My father,” he said after a few moments silence, “finds cowardice abhorrent in any situation. He always told me never to run away, to face my fears, to be brave. There is honor in standing your ground, I think, even if it seems hopeless.”

Belle disagreed, having always believed that while sacrifice can be noble, it can also be very foolish. In spite of that, she found herself smiling a little and laying her hand over Gaston’s, giving it a light squeeze. 

“My mother had a saying,” she said. “Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.”

“Does it work?” Gaston asked, shifting his hand to cover hers. 

His fingers tightened, a little too hard, and she wanted to pull her hand away. She shook her head. “Not so far, no. But I keep trying.”

“There is honor in that too,” he said.

Then he bid her goodnight and left.

She continued to sit on the sofa for some time, looking down at her hand and remembering how just a little while ago it had been hidden completely in his. Her neck hurt a little from always looking up at him, finding that even when sitting she had to tilt her head back almost all the way. He was so much - _bigger_ \- than she was. She felt small, dwarfed by him, and she wondered if their marriage would make her feel the same way. Would it always be about honor, about bravery, about what their fathers wanted them to be?

At least Gaston wasn’t despicable like Prince James, his sense of honor would probably keep him from taking mistresses or laying a cruel hand on her. She thought maybe they could be friends after a time, and perhaps that was the best she could hope for in their situation. He seemed as unhappy with the arrangement as she did, but she couldn’t say why.

Needing some fresh air, she pushed to her feet, smoothed out her skirts, and headed for the garden.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The air was cool but comfortable as Rumplestiltskin wandered the gardens, following the winding path. He looked down at his boots, setting one foot on each stone as he walked. The dinner had unsettled him again. He kept glancing over to where the Princess was sitting, next to her future husband, feeling strange about the whole thing.

Most marriages in the kingdom were arranged, even among the poorest. Everyone was always trying to better their station, or secure their family’s place. Even his own marriage had been planned for him, but at least he’d known Milah for more than three days. They hadn’t been strangers even though it certainly felt that way on their wedding night. And there was that odd sense of excitement and anticipation too. Though he’d ruined that in the end with his clumsiness and inexperience. At least the Princess would have a husband who was honorable and worthy of her. That was more than Milah had with him.

He kicked at the small rocks and sand lining the stone path. It wouldn’t do to let his mind linger on all his failings. 

“Something bothering you?” a gentle voice said behind him.

He turned, frowning, but then his expression softened. “Belle.”

His voice was warm and breathy when he said her name, like he was happy to see her. She liked it too much.

“Good evening, Rumplestiltskin,” she said, smiling. Her head tilted to the side a little as she looked at him. “You seem surprised to see me.”

“Well, um, I thought you’d be -,” he gestured with a hand towards the castle. “I thought you’d be with your, uh, betrothed.”

She shrugged. “I was for a while, but I needed some air afterwards.”

He nodded, not wanting to read too much into what she said. “It’s a nice night for it.”

Nodding, she took hold of his arm and they started walking. She noticed immediately how comfortable it was to be next to Rumplestiltskin, to walk arm in arm with him, how she didn’t have to do more than lift her eyes to look in his. She hadn’t really realized how much shorter he was than Gaston. He was a slight man, closer in height to her than to most other knights she’d seen. To some he probably looked scrawny or weak. There was a hidden strength in him, though, one she had felt when he shielded her from the Dark One, when he had held her in the market square, and even now as he walked with her.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be outside like this,” he said, with a small smile. 

They came around the bend to the dormant rose bushes, now a twisted mass of brown leaves and brittle thorny branches. Belle raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that somewhere between questioning and daring.

“How so, Sir?” she asked with a smirk, leading him along the path as it looped passed some young trees and a small marble fountain.

“Well, the Dark One _has_ threatened your life,” he explained. “Being out in the open unprotected is dangerous.”

Belle smiled and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin tensed for a moment, surprised by how close she suddenly was. 

“I’m not unprotected,” she said simply. “I’m with you.”

He felt a soothing warmth all along where she pressed against him, and he caught the barest whiff of her perfume, or maybe a scented soap, flowery and airy. A light breeze swirled around them, lifting a few of her hairs and brushing them against his cheek. He pressed his lips together and fixed his eyes on the ground as they walked.

Beside him, Belle sighed, and squeezed his arm.


	6. Honor Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle gets married to Gaston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please just trust me. It gets better.

They were in the garden and the sun was bright and warm, the sky clear.

Rumplestiltskin’s boots crunched against the limestone path, the sound sharp and crisp in the spring-like air. Belle walked beside him, rocking side to side as she stepped, trying to balance in her heels on the gravel. She normally wore flat shoes when they were in the garden, but today she was dressed in a fine gown, a brilliant light blue with a cream colored bodice covered in lace, held closed with a dark blue ribbon. 

It had been distracting him all morning.

She tugged his arm and led him to sit on one of the marble benches by the fountain. The air was filled with the smell of roses and lavender and grass. He looked around in confusion at the blooming bushes and trees, the soft green grass rippling in the slight breeze.

 _It was almost winter, wasn’t it_?

“What’s wrong, my knight?” Belle asked, beaming up at him.

He smiled back at her, unable to think of anything except how her eyes reminded him of the ocean. “Nothing,” he replied.

She laughed and leaned against him, nuzzling her face into the crease of his neck, and his breath caught. He felt her soft lips press against his rough skin as her hand came up to card through his hair.

“Belle,” he managed. He should be pushing her away, putting distance between them. She was betrothed. She was a princess. And he was unworthy.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she answered in a slightly sing-song voice. Then she laughed again, a light, airy giggle.

He pulled away and looked down at her. She was still too beautiful, too warm, too close. “What are you -?”

He didn’t get out another word as her lips sealed over his and her arms came up to circle his neck. Every nerve in his body sparked to life, he could feel her everywhere around him, overwhelming his senses. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming at him to stop, but then she made a little noise at the back of her throat, and he opened his mouth in willing surrender.

She tasted like apples.

Rumplestiltskin startled awake and rolled to the side. The visions of Belle clouded his mind such that he didn’t realize he was already at the edge of the bed. He scrambled to hold on, clutching at the blanket that had tangled in his legs overnight, but it tumbled to the floor with him.

He grunted as he dropped to the hard floor, landing on his front, barely saving his face from being bruised by catching himself with his hands. Then he rolled onto his back and stared up at the high arched ceiling for a moment before his eyes fluttered shut. It had been so real, _she_ had been so real. But as the sleepy feeling faded from his body he knew it all for what it was, a pathetically hopeful dream that would never be true.

Soon he would be leaving Avonlea and the Princess would stay behind, married and out of his reach forever. She had called him a friend, but he knew the reality of her station and his, when he was gone that would be it, and she would never belong to him.

 _Gods_ , when had he started to want that?

He took a deep breath, trying to hold on to the lingering images of her beautiful, laughing face. He only hoped that when spring really came to Avonlea, that she would be as happy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle stared at herself in the oval mirror of her vanity. 

Behind her, in the reflection of her long floor length mirror, she could see the back of the dress where it puddled over the short stool beneath her. Her eyes focused on the line of blue that started just under her shoulder blades and went down her back. The crisscrossing laces held the bodice of her dress closed and ended in a large bow with long ribbons that would trail over the lace of her train.

Half of her hair was piled on her head in a beautiful mess of curls, held in place with more pins than she had ever worn at once, while the rest of it cascaded down her back in perfect twirls. Ruby had been at it for the better part of the morning, in between breaks so Belle could stretch her legs and nibble at some food.

It was better, she was told, if her stomach was empty when they fitted and adjusted her mother’s old dress to become _her_ dress, and then bound her up in its corsetry and skirting and pomp. It was beautiful, certainly, but she hated it. Not the dress exactly, but what it meant that she was wearing it here and now, that she was stitched into her mother’s dress instead of having time to have her own made. Now she was left with an empty stomach and a dress that allowed for very little room to do anything.

Belle hissed as Ruby tugged a little too hard on one last strand of hair as she curled it.

“Sorry,” Ruby muttered, frowning at the lock that just refused to curl the right way. “I’m almost done, Your Grace.”

“It’s alright,” Belle sighed. Once Ruby finished, she pushed herself up to stand and looked around at the massive skirts surrounding her legs. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to get out of all this later.”

Ruby grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Later, you’ll have _help_.”

Belle looked away quickly, shutting her eyes to hopefully avoid any tears ruining the makeup one of the other women had so carefully applied earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said, quietly, reaching for her friend’s hand. “I shouldn’t make light of things.”

Belle looked over and gave Ruby a sad smile. “It’s not your fault everything is how it is.” Then she looked back at the image of herself in the mirror. “I’m sure I’m not the first bride who didn’t look forward to her wedding.”

Ruby moved to stand behind Belle, her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “It could still be good, Belle,” she said. “You don’t even know Gaston yet, he might be -”

“That’s just _it_ , Ruby! I don’t know him at all!” Belle exclaimed, getting halfway turned around before her legs became too tangled in the mass of skirts. She huffed and tried to shift backwards to find the stool she had been sitting on, but the pile of fabric was pushing it away from her even as she tried to make her way to it. She let out a frustrated curse and then sighed.

Ruby stifled her laughter and moved to help lift the skirting so Belle could sit down. Once the Princess was settled again, she gave her friend a sympathetic smile.

“This dress is ridiculous,” Belle said looking around her at the mass of silk and lace covering layers of petticoats that puffed out around her such that she looked like a tiny fairy sitting in the middle of a massive white rose.

“It is a bit much,” Ruby agreed. “But it was your mother’s, and she would want you to look ridiculous in it.”

Belle laughed wetly, swiping at the tears that bloomed in her eyes at the thought of her mother. “I know. Sometimes I think it wouldn’t have felt right to wear anything else.”

Ruby nodded, and moved to the door as someone knocked. It was one of the kitchen girls with a tray of tea and cakes, which Ruby took with a thank you and a smile. She made her way back to Belle, carefully, the tea set rattling in her unsteady hands.

“You should eat something more,” Ruby encouraged, sliding two of the small cakes onto a plate.

Belle gave her friend a look. “I’m not sure there’s enough room in this dress for me _and_ a full stomach.” She laid a hand on the front of her dress where the corseting of the bodice flattened out and pressed against her, the sides curving in to give her almost half the waist she normally had. It was an attractive silhouette sure, but hardly practical.

“In my Gran’s day, brides were supposed to eat like birds. They were supposed to be dainty little pixies in their gowns,” Ruby said, handing over the cup and saucer to Belle.

Belle snickered. “Your Gran doesn’t seem the type to go along with that.”

Ruby set the plate with the cakes down on the vanity. “Hardly,” she replied with an eye roll. “Must be where I learned to be such a _fine_ lady.”

Belle laughed and squeezed Ruby’s hand. “You _are_ a fine lady,” she insisted. “And an even better friend.”

Ruby smiled and poured the tea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin stretched and twisted as he looked down and frowned at his new leather jerkin and breeches. They felt too stiff compared to his old ones, but he supposed that’s because this is what they were supposed to feel like and his old clothes had simply been too worn. The shirt was cool and soft against his skin, despite the leather he wore over it, and the boots were very comfortable. He wiggled his toes inside them and smiled a little. They would need to be broken in, but even so he didn’t think there would be any blisters from just walking the castle grounds.

King Maurice had insisted that even after everything he’d already been given, Rumplestiltskin should have a commissioned set of armor, in metal and leather, complete with a new sword and shield. The latter weren’t made yet, but Master Emory, the royal armorer, had ordered him to be there by mid morning tomorrow.

It all felt like far too much, and a part of Rumplestiltskin just wanted to go back to the Frontlands, to the tiny cottage with only two rooms and the crooked door that didn’t fit right so they had to stack straw bales in front of it in the winter and throw a shoulder against it to get it closed. He missed home, and it was a strange comprehension after so many years of wanting and trying to escape the burdens of his birthplace and his family.

Soon he would be leaving Avonlea, but for where he didn’t know. He hoped he wouldn’t end up being pulled into the war, but it felt inevitable. He took a breath and let it out slowly, almost sighing. He would have to be brave one more time. Even after slaying a dragon he didn’t feel like he’d shaken the spectre of his father and the shame he’d brought upon them all. Things weren’t so different here than in the Frontlands, in that regard, and he knew if Princess Belle heard even half of the story she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. She would send him away with prejudice and scorn.

Just like Milah had done once she’d found out.

He shook his head and pushed the unsettling memories to the back of his mind. He sighed again and looked at himself in the mirror, a large floor length thing with a gilded frame and carvings all up and down the sides like ivy. It was a gaudy thing and his reflection looked horribly out of place inside its borders. He didn’t look much like a knight. He was too short, too scrawny, too old. He had no business leading soldiers or fighting in a war, seeking glory and honor. That was a young man’s game.

At least today Belle would marry a truly brave man, a noble man, the kind who could deserve her favor fully, and not just be a fleeting friendship, someone she was kind to for a time because it was in her nature. Her life would change forever, and someday she would be queen, _his_ queen. 

The thought of her beauty and kindness ruling the land was happy one at least, and he smiled to himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later, after Ruby and the rest of her maids had finished preparing and tending her, Belle was left alone with her thoughts.

She sighed and leaned on the window ledge, thinking of her mother, Collette, and pondering if she had been as uncertain and fearful as her daughter was now. Her parents had known each other for some time before they were betrothed. War had broken out one month into their engagement, and the wedding itself was delayed twice, making it almost a full year before they could be married. In that time her mother had stayed in Avonlea with Maurice because it was far safer than her home which had been nearly destroyed by the ogres. But there was love there, that much Belle remembered of her short time with her mother. 

Collette had loved Maurice and he loved her. At what point they realized it, Belle didn’t know, but it had always given her hope. She had known from an early age that her primary responsibility was to find a suitable husband and produce an heir, but it had never felt forced on her like it did now. It felt more like something she would eventually aspire to on her own, once she was old enough and had met the right man. She had imagined parties and royal balls, suitors lining up to meet her and the luxury of being able to take her time choosing from among them.

She wondered if things had gone that way, if war wasn’t a looming black cloud on the horizon, if perhaps Rumplestiltskin would have been there. Would he have become a knight? Would he have been daring enough to seek the approval and hand of a princess? Probably not, but the thought of what wonderfully sweet overtures he might make left her smiling anyway. Unlike Gaston, she knew Rumplestiltskin was a good, kind man. She was sure his heart was braver than he let on, or perhaps even than he knew himself. 

Shaking her head, she moved away from the window to the table where the tea was still sitting. She poured herself a cup, and even though it was only lukewarm it still helped to settle her stomach. She knew after the encounter with the Dark One in the market and the arrival of Gaston that the time her father promised her had evaporated. A date had been set for the wedding almost immediately, giving her barely four days to prepare not only for the ceremony itself, but for her life to change completely.

She wondered if Rumplestiltskin would attend the ceremony. It was likely there would be little to no guests, just their fathers, King Leopold and his daughter, and the few other visiting nobility. She wanted Rumplestiltskin there, and Ruby too. Friendly faces might help ease her anxiety some, even as her nearly empty stomach roiled at the thought of any of it.

Setting the tea cup down, Belle turned and stared with trepidation at the large chest at the end of her bed. It contained her trousseau, which was mostly made up of things collected or gifted to her over the years. Some of the linens and stitching had been her mother’s. They wouldn’t be of much use, their material thin and too delicate with age, but she was horribly sentimental about them and would insist they come with her even if they never left the trunk. She’d like to pass them on to a child one day.

A child.

 _Gods_!

She swayed and ended up stumbling onto the chest, sitting awkwardly with the bustle of her dress tucked half under her. Her heart was racing and her stomach turned again, but after a few steady, deep breaths she had managed to calm herself a little. Everything was happening too fast, too haphazard. She had counted on the planning and a few months of being engaged to warm to her fiance and the idea of marriage. Thoughts of the life at court, of entertaining and guests, of being a queen and the endless parade of wealth and status had never sat well with her. She knew she was getting a head of things, but the thought of a baby, of Gaston’s baby, a man she hardly knew, made her sick.

Belle had always prided herself on following her mother’s example, on being brave even when she didn’t feel it. This was the first time since her mother’s passing that all she wanted to do was be a coward and run.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin stared at the door to Princess Belle’s bedroom. He raised his hand to knock and then hesitated, taking a deep breath before thumping his fist twice against the wood.

There was a beat of time between his knock and Belle’s answering call in which he contemplated running away, but then he heard her voice and sighed, pushing open the door and slipping into the room.

“Belle?” he said softly, looking around carefully, trying not to let his eyes settle on any one thing for too long.

“Sir Rumplestiltskin?” she replied, and he spun around to see her sitting by the fire on a bench.

The gown was spread out behind her, the long train draped over the back and sides of the bench and pooling on the floor. Blue ribbon laced up her back, holding the bodice closed, with the long ends spilling down over the train of the dress. Her hair was half up and half down and a gold diadem of thin filigree adorned with small gemstones was tucked into the pile of curls on top of her head. The firelight danced over her hair, highlighting the strands that were more red than brown, making them shine like polished copper.

Rumplestiltskin’s breath left him. She was stunning. Perfect. Every inch of her the epitome of royalty.

Belle frowned. “What are you doing here?”

He took a few cautious steps towards her. “His majesty asked me to, um, to escort you. To the - the ceremony.”

He flashed her a nervous smile and waited.

“Oh,” she breathed after a moment, looking to the fire and then back to him. “Tea?”

Nodding, he took another hesitant step, looking around for the tea service before he spotted it on a table near the end of the bench, just within her reach. Of course, he thought, it’s not like she’d be able to maneuver very easily in such a gown.

She picked up the teapot and refilled her cup, then moved another one closer so she could pour some for him, the dress rustling noisily with every movement. When she looked back he hadn’t moved and she gave him a soft smile. “Come sit, Rumplestiltskin,” she said, patting the bench beside her.

He hurried to her side and sat down, accepting the tea she offered with another anxious hint of a smile.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, holding her cup up to her mouth. She blinked at him over the rim, her brow furrowed slightly.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head again and gave her a quick, tight smile. His eyes jumped around the space from the fire to the window to her face, until he noticed the light glinting off an object on the floor. He set his tea on the little table and bent down to find a small wedge of broken glass. Looking closer he saw a few more in varying sizes.

“Why is there glass on the floor?” he asked, turning to Belle.

She shifted in her seat and waved her hand. “Oh - I, um, I knocked over a vase trying to get around in this monstrosity,” she replied dismissively, fluffing her skirts.

He nodded. “Ah, well allow me.”

He knelt down and carefully picked up the glass pieces he could see, placing them in his open palm.

“There is no need,” she insisted, bending forward as far as she could, but the corset and numerous skirts kept her from getting closer. “The maids can see to it later.”

He looked over his shoulder, smiling up at her. “It's no trouble,” he said. Then he ran his hand over the floor to see if there anymore, and when he found none he held up his open hand. “See?”

He moved to place them on the tray so they could be disposed of later and then sat back down, picking up his cup of tea. She sighed and said a soft thank you, and they resumed sipping their tea and picking at the small platter of food, mostly cheeses, breads and crackers, and cured meats. The idle conversation was comfortable for a time until it waned into silence.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “My lady? Shouldn't we be getting to, um, to your -” He motioned towards her dress.

She smiled faintly. “My wedding?” she asked. Then she looked to the window, a bit wistful, and said, “Oh, there's time yet. It's tradition to say the vows just before sundown.”

He nodded. “Ah, mine were - I mean, where I'm from the tradition is different.”

“Oh? How so?” she asked. 

She had that curious expression again, the one he’d come to find familiar, where her eyebrows were arched ever so slightly, her eyes were wide, and her mouth quirked as though she might smile. He liked it on her, he thought, and the always curious, never satisfied with the world way she blurted out questions or musings to him. He was glad she felt that sort of comfort around him, even if it was to be short lived.

He shrugged. “Well, in the Frontlands, it is always done when the sun was still high,” he explained. “Then there is a feast and a celebration that lasts until the sun set. After that the newlyweds go off - “ he gestured, not wanting to say what they both knew happened “ - _together_ , and everyone else keeps on celebrating.”

Belle smiled. “It sounds like great fun.”

“It can be,” he admitted, recalling how his own wedding was a much smaller affair than most, the spread of food everything they had stored, and somehow still too meager. “If you can afford such a feast at all.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing Rumplestiltskin must have known what it was like not to have enough. “I'm sorry.”

He smiled and shrugged again. “It’s no matter,” he said. “Most of the time the whole village pitched in, and everyone brought a little something to share. We somehow managed to always have enough.”

He knew that was true of others’ wedding feasts, but not his, not for the coward’s son.

The teacup rattled on the saucer, as she fidgeted, so she set it aside and turned as much as she could to face him. “Were you… I mean -”

“Married?” he finished for her.

Her response was hesitant. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. It was something he hadn’t thought about or spoken of in some time, and it surprised him that he’d still feel choked with emotions just admitting it out loud.

Belle fought the urge to take his hand, but leaned closer. “But...?”

He swallowed. “She - she died.”

And please leave it at that, Rumplestiltskin thought. _Please_.

“Oh,” she said again. “I - oh. I'm sorry.” She sensed there was much more to the story, but it was not her place to pry. If he had wanted her to know he would have said as much. Though she did not know how long ago his wife had died, she thought he must have lost a great love to be so overcome with emotion and the desire not to speak of it. Her heart ached for him.

“No matter,” he replied, forcing a smile.

She sighed and looked to the window, her stomach sinking when she saw the dimming light. It was almost time. She made to get up, pushing herself awkwardly off the bench. It was too low for such a large gown, and everything bunched behind her knees and around her feet, making it hard to stand.

She wobbled and Rumplestiltskin reached out to take her arm. “Let me help you, my lady”

“I can do it!” she insisted, but then as she tried to pull her train into order behind her, she almost fell backwards onto the bench again.

“Belle, please.” He took careful hold of her arm, trying to be gentle with the lace and beading that went down to her elbows.

“Stupid dress,” she grumbled, but finally allowed him to help balance her as they moved around the bench and into the middle of the room. He took a step back from her once he was certain she was stable, his hand sliding down the rest of her arm, catching her fingers in his.

She exhaled and looked up at him, seeing that his lip were fighting a smile. “Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

Belle looked at the door and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, that same hard, sick feeling creating an uncomfortable pressure inside her. She laid her free hand over the front of her dress as if that could keep the feeling from overwhelming her.

Rumplestiltskin titled his head in concern. “My lady are you -?”

“No,” she said quickly, turning her face away from him, to the door, and then fixing her eyes on the floor. “No I'm not alright. I don't want _any_ of this!”

Struck by her outburst, he took a cautious step forward, unsure of what to say. “I'm sorry?” he offered, giving her fingers a little squeeze.

She let out a strangled, almost sobbing noise, and fell into him. Her fingers tightened against the soft leather, pulled a little at the laces on the front, as she willed herself for what felt like the hundredth time not to cry. She tried to find her anger from earlier, the sharp spike of rage when she was alone that lead to the shattered glass Rumplestiltskin cleaned up. If she could hold on to that she thought she might be okay, she might get through this.

She leaned in and rested her head against his chest, a few wisps of hair tickling his chin. He hesitated before moving his arms, bringing them up around her, gently, holding her but not too tightly. He didn’t want to overstep his bounds, or crease her dress, or damage anything about the perfect bridal image she made. She sniffled and let out a breath that sounded wet and ragged, and shifted her feet closer, pushing herself against him even with the mass of her gown between them. He tried not to notice how perfectly she fit there. She was just a bit shorter than him, in boots or heels she might be the same height, perfectly matched.

“Belle?” he said, gently trying to push her back so he could see her face. They would be expected soon at the ceremony and the last thing he wanted was guards bursting in to find their betrothed Princess clinging to another man. “My lady, -?”

He stopped when he felt her start to shake, the tension in her body as she made herself stay upright. Sighing, he kissed the top of her head on impulse.

She sucked in a breath as soon as Rumplestiltskin moved. It was the briefest contact, his lips in her hair, but it had felt terrifyingly intimate. He was warm, warm and solid, holding her without crushing or demanding, and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Kiss me.”

He froze. “My lady?” he whispered. He needed to know if she had said what he thought he heard because damn did he want that moment from his dream to be real.

“Please, Rumple?” she asked softly.

Belle pulled back slightly and looked up at him, waiting for the judgement, for him to say he couldn’t possibly, to scold her for even thinking it when she was about to be married. But he was just watching her, searching her face, her eyes, for something. There was silence, a slow silence, as his expression changed.

He swallowed hard at the use of his shortened name, a name he hadn't heard in years, but sounded so sweet on her lips, and shook his head. “Why?”

She let out the breath she was holding and squared her shoulders. “Because just once I want to kiss someone because I _want_ to, and not because I _have_ to.”

Her mouth curled, just slightly, into a sad smile, and he smiled too.

There were tears stinging her eyes again and she blinked, sending one rolling down her cheek. His thumb caught it just as it reached the corner of her mouth, sweeping it away. His chest felt too tight, the room too warm, and then she begged him again, so softly it could only be heard between the two of them, and it was enough. He bent just a little, and whispered her name just before his lips touched hers.

It was soft, startling, but in a way that she felt would consume her if she gave herself over. She’d never done this before, not this way, nothing that was ever beyond a quick smack of lips on a cheek, a hand, or, more daringly, a corner of a mouth. She felt clumsy and childish, but then his lips parted just a little and he captured her bottom lip between his, sucking delicately before he let it go. She let out a quiet sigh, and he moved to pull away from her, thinking that was enough, but she shifted with him. Her hand slid into his hair, letting their lips part for only a second before she boldly pulled him to her and joined them again.

The gentle pressure of his hand cupping her face made her tilt her head back, opening her mouth to meet his. She tasted his breath as he gasped, just before his tongue pushed forward, coaxing and tender, hot and wet. His soft, dry lips plucked at hers, and she met him action for action, growing confident enough to taste him as he had tasted her. There was awkwardness and bumping of noses, but he titled his head just a little more and the moment changed again. He moaned and her body trembled, a strange ripple of sensation washing over her to pool in her belly. It was a subtle pleasure that promised so much more.

One of his hands dropped down, sliding into the cusp of her back to pull her firmly against him. The other slipped from her cheek into her hair, carefully threading his fingers in the loose curls at her nape. There was a tug as her fingers twisted in his hair, urging him not to stop, or to come apart for an instant, only so they could fit back together, better. His mind was spinning, every mental faculty he had was focused on the pressure of her lips and the taste of her mouth. He was warm everywhere they touched, everywhere her body aligned with his. An aching want settled in his gut, and was too easy to imagine where things could go. 

This was what she should have, she thought, this gentle, building passion, a spark that could be stoked into so much more if she would let it. And part of her wanted to let it, wanted to go where it might lead her even if it was foolish and wrong.

Rumplestiltskin pulled away. He was stupid to think he could somehow have this with her. She was a princess! He was just a knight, and not even that good of one, or a brave one. No just one who happened into his title and hadn’t done a thing with it. _Gods!_ She was quite literally about to be married!

Belle’s eyes blinked open and she clutched at his arms, swaying with the dizzying sensation of coming back to herself, her head heavy with the awareness of what they’d just done.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. Once he was sure she was going to remain upright, he stepped away and ran his anxious hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t -”

Belle pulled back, releasing her hold on him, hands clenching at her sides. “Stop it! Don’t you dare!” she shouted.

He startled and looked at her, fearful she might suddenly take exception with what had happened, despite having asked him repeatedly to kiss her, and summon the guards to haul him off to the nearest dungeon.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said again, feebly. His hands fidgeted at his sides. Part of him wanted to run from the room and the castle and never look back.

“Don’t,” she repeated. “ _Please_. Don’t say you’re sorry that you kissed me because I’m not.”

“I’m not,” he said immediately. Then he swallowed and waited.

“Good,” she said. “Good.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Belle warred with herself, torn between begging Rumplestiltskin to help her run away from all this, and begging him to kiss her again. She wondered if it happened again, if she’d feel the same way, if that gentle heat and the pleasant tingle that followed would come back. Instead she took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.

“I believe you came to escort me to my wedding,” she said, holding out her hand.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and let out the breath he’d been holding. He moved closer and took her hand, laying it on over his arm.

Smiling sadly, he said, “As my lady commands.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle rolled over onto her side, pulling the thin sheet up over her body to her shoulder as she pressed her face to the cool pillow.

Her silk nightgown was twisted around her legs, sticking to her sweaty skin, but she ached too much to move to pull it down all the way. There was an uncomfortable tightness like she had never felt before, from the middle of her stomach down to her thighs. It made her feel like she wanted to curl in on herself, like she couldn’t straighten out because the muscles were cramped and wouldn’t let her. Between her legs, where her husband had lain just a few moments ago, it was wet and sticky. She felt like there were bruises on the inside, despite knowing that Gaston had been as careful with her as he could. 

There had been some pleasure, though, when he kissed her neck, her body, but not the building intensity, the burning passion she had found herself longing for in the moment. She had been aroused enough that their joining wasn’t difficult, but she had felt too full, too smothered, too -

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting in her head until everything had been forced from her lungs. It was something she did when her monthly bleeding caused her pain, but it didn’t help as much as she’d hoped. She felt the mattress move beneath her, the sinking and rising as her husband moved away from her and then sat up on the side of the bed. He sighed, and she swallowed, not daring to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said softly.

Shame made tears spring to her eyes and she was angry because she knew there should be no shame in being with her husband this way. This was part of what marriage was about, its purpose, but that there was no love in heart for him left her feeling guilty, as though she had denied him something.

He had offered to leave her be, had even shown her a small vial of pig’s blood so the high priest and her father would be placated, assured that the marriage was a legitimate one. She had rejected that idea immediately. Her marriage would not begin on a lie.

Belle made herself turn over, wincing as the movement made the cramping pains intensify. Once she was settled facing him, they abated and she reached out to touch his arm.

“Will you - stay?” she managed. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to stay, but she didn’t want to be alone either.

He looked back her, and laid his hand over hers. “It would probably be best if I didn’t.”

She tried not to look too wounded, and turned her hand over so their palms were pressed together. Her hand squeezed his before he pulled away and stood up.

“You should rest,” he said, bending to pick up his trousers.

She found herself feeling desperate for him not to leave. “Please stay. Talk to me.” He turned to her, frowning. “Please?”

He sighed and pulled on his breeches, tucking in the shirt he was still wearing. He didn’t lace up the shirt or trousers, and then sat back down on the bed. He shifted until he was against the headboard, one leg hanging over the side of the bed, the other stretched out on the bed.

Belle gave him a small smile and held out her hand again, which he stared at for a moment and then wrapped in his.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She shifted and tried to sit but a little bit, but there was another sharp pain that made her suck in air.

Gaston immediately looked concerned. “Are you alright, my lady? Did I - I didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she replied, softly. “It’s just - new. Different. I’m not -”

She sighed, and his thumb rubbed the back of her hand. “I should have been more careful,” he fretted.

“No,” she reassured. “You were very kind. I’m just - inexperienced.”

He looked down at their hands. “I believe, my lady, that is supposed to be the case?”

She laughed, even though she didn’t mean to, even though what he said should have been far from funny. He was smiling in spite of it as well. This was strange new territory, being a wife, a woman, and she didn’t know what or how to feel. 

“But you are not?” she asked. She thought she knew the answer now, when she only suspected before.

He shook his head and retracted his hand again, fidgeting with the corner of the sheet folded under him. It seemed to be common for most men to have some experience before their wedding night. She had known of many noble’s sons who visited brothels, or were brought women to make them into men, as if that mattered. As if her bloody sacrifice mattered.

Her heart sunk and that sick feeling sat in her belly like lead. “There was someone else.”

It wasn’t a question. She knows now, why he was distant before, why he seemed to know what to do when she was all clumsy elbows and awkwardness. He hadn’t just been tossed to a whore.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Her name is Amelia. She’s the daughter of our Master Smith.”

Tears welled up in Belle’s eyes and she shifted away from Gaston, curling up around a pillow and digging her nails into it.

Her voice shook as she spoke. “And you love her?”

He nodded, the look on his face as stricken as hers. “Yes. But she is to marry another as well, in a month’s time.”

Her eyes slammed shut and the tears finally came in earnest. She felt the bed move again as he came closer, but she put a hand out to stop him. 

“Don’t,” she commanded, her voice much harder and angrier than she felt.

Gaston swallowed and moved off the bed. He tugged on his boots and started hastily lacing them up.

“Belle,” he said, pleadingly, pausing in his task to look at her. “Please believe me. This is not -”

She pushed herself to sit up and face her husband. “I know. It’s not what either of us wanted.”

He nodded solemnly. “It never is, in our positions.”

A harsh laugh escaped her even though her tears. “So stupid,” she muttered. “Why should it matter? Any of it? Titles, land, _virgin_ blood?”

Her voice spat out the last words and Gaston winced.

“I don’t know, my lady,” he replied. His eyes kept moving between her face and the floor and the door. He wanted to escape and he could barely look her in the eyes. “But I _swear_ -”

She knew he was feeling more shame than she was. He was probably feeling as though he’d betrayed her and his love. “I don’t expect you to love me,” she snapped. “That isn’t fair to either of us.”

He swallowed and look her steadily in the eyes. “I will promise you this,” he said, voice firmer than it had been. “I _will_ honor you and I _will_ be faithful to you.”

She nodded, swiping her hands over her cheeks to brush away the tears. “I know,” she breathed. “And if there is -” her hand splayed over her abdomen and she swallowed. “If there is a child?”

He frowned. “I would love any child of mine.”

She nodded again. She believed him and it was some comfort to her that when it happened there could be joy for both of them in that, even if there was none to be found in each other.

“You should rest now,” he said, moving to the door. 

Gaston lingered for a moment, his eyes full of such sorrow that Belle felt another ache building in her chest, but then he slipped quietly through the door, letting it shut behind him. She turned and lay on her side again, pressing the pillow she had been clutching to her abdomen. One of her maids would be waiting at the end of the corridor, waiting for her husband to be seen leaving so they could change the sheets and see if she required anything. 

She squeezed the pillow, brought her legs up to curl herself inward like a child, as she wept into the soft cotton. Her tears were for both her and her husband, and the contract they were both forced into. There was no hate or loathing in her heart for him, just the same pity as she had for herself.

After a few minutes, she took a breath and let it out, shuddering as she did until she felt nothing but the chill of the room. It had felt too warm earlier, as she changed out of her voluminous gown and into her nightgown. The constantly fluttering in her stomach all day had left her worried she might be sick in front of her husband. Ruby had helped her instead of Gaston. He had begged off courteously and she had been so grateful for those last few minutes to herself.

Now she understood why.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and before Belle could turn over Ruby’s voice called out to her quietly.

“Are you okay?” Ruby asked, moving to the bedside and sitting carefully by Belle’s knees.

Belle nodded. “I’m alright, Ruby.”

“I brought you a hot water bottle,” she said, lifting the metal cylinder. “And a sheepskin to put over it.”

Belle sighed happily, and moved so Ruby could slip the bottle under the bed clothes. “I’ll come back for the sheets later, alright?”

Belle smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

Ruby left, and Belle shifted around in the bed until she had the water bottle nestled against her lower back. With the pillow providing a soft pressure on her front and the soothing heat at her back, the Princess felt herself drifting near slumber.

She found herself thinking back to when she kissed Rumplestiltskin. She doesn’t want to cry anymore so she holds on to the pleasing thoughts, the soft insistence of his lips and the way he held her close. The contrast with Gaston is startling, but she doesn’t linger on it long. She takes a slow breath and closes her eyes, warmth spreading over her body.

Moments later she was asleep.


	7. Gifts and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle gets introspective, has a moment with Rumple, but there's that pesky Dark One to deal with too. The Princess has a full plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Am. So. Sorry. I will never take this long to update this fic again, I swear to you. I know it's been over a month and I am the worst. RCIJ completely swept me up and some other one-shots had to get out first. Rest assured I'm back on track with this fic.

Belle spent most of the week in her room, as was the old tradition that someone of her station was expected to follow. Her husband was not to see her for at least two days. She supposed that new brides were often so traumatized from the ordeal of their weddings, from the planning to the ceremony, and all that followed after, that of course they wanted to shut themselves up and ignore the world for a few days. Or that some would do anything to escape the attentions of their new spouse and feign a sickness of some kind that kept them in bed well past the two days propriety required.

Admittedly, Belle had felt the same way on her wedding night, crying into her pillow over what seemed like a terrible fate, but by morning she awoke oddly calm. She knew exactly where she stood with her husband, and he with her. They weren’t lying to themselves or each other about what their marriage was.

Gaston was honorable to a fault, of that she was certain. She had his respect and trust. How many noble women in arranged marriages could say the same? How many were left wondering if their husbands spent their nights apart with other women, or were caught up in gambling and drink? She heard the stories her maids traded about the secret lives of the royal court; she wasn’t that naive. Still, she wasn’t eager for her husband to come to her again.

Bell felt strange. She wasn’t ashamed or sad that she was no longer a maiden, a right she had given freely to her husband. And yet where she expected some type of relief, something that made her feel like she’d ascended to womanhood, there was just… nothing. She’d always been lead to believe it was some magical thing, that moment when she and her husband solidified their bond, but there was nothing special about it really. Instead there had been trepidation, mild discomfort, and something else that was - pleasing?

She wished she had known more going into the whole thing, or been able to ask questions without getting tutted and told she wasn’t to think of such things. For all the world wanted a noble woman to lose her virginity and bear sons, it sure didn’t want her to know anything about it.

Two days passed with Ruby and Miss Potts making frequent visits every day. They brought tea and meals and news from the council, none of which was good. On the third day she was relieved that Gaston had decided to ride out with her father’s generals to survey the troops and discuss tactics. It was a welcome reprieve from wondering and worrying when he would share her bed again, and she spent most of the evening chatting with Ruby and reading. But the fourth night, when Gaston was back at the castle, she thought for sure he would return to her bed. When he didn’t, uncertainty welled up inside her, twisting her insides until she couldn’t take more than three bites of supper before she had to cover the plate and set it outside her door.

She told herself that he must be tired, busy with all the troop preparations, and that it wasn’t anything she did or didn’t do. When he finally visited her again on the fifth night, it was simply to make sure that she was well, and to spend a few minutes sipping tea. The conversation was awkward, but not all that uncomfortable, and when he left Belle found herself feeling surprisingly disappointed. Her kingdom needed an heir regardless of the circumstances of their union. Gaston had said he would do what was necessary for an heir. She hoped that what had been said between them that night hadn’t changed that.

Later that same night, Belle was restless. Sleep was not coming easily, partly because the wind had started to howl outside, a precursor to a late autumn storm, but mostly because her mind would not settle. She climbed out of bed and wrapped her robe over her nightgown, adding another log to the fire before she sat in her preferred chair, the one turned just slightly towards the window. Staring into the flames, she let her mind wander back over the last two weeks.

So much had happened that Belle wondered how a mere two weeks had passed and not months. It was too much for such a short time, surely, to go from being promised to a prince, to married to the son of a Duke, never mind that war had all but started. Then there was the Dark One. She shivered.

And then she remembered.

Belle stood up and crossed the room to her armoire. She dug inside, pushing her arm between the hanging petticoats and skirts, feeling around way in the back where it was dark and hidden from view by her clothes. She pulled out a folded red cloak and set it down on her writing desk to unwrap it. 

The green leather bound book stared back at her, an ancient symbol pressed into its cover of a serpent coiled around a sword. Her hand hovered over it, her palm tingled, and she hoped it was from fear and anticipation than any magic that might live in the pages. Carefully, she bent back the cover and read the words on the title page. It was in one of the old languages, from the far north, she thought, where everything had long fallen into blight and never ending blizzards.

_Magical Tales of the Five Kingdoms_

Sitting down at the desk, she took out a sheet of paper and a quill, and began to slowly translate what she was able to. Questions and notes to herself were scribbled in the margins for a later time when she might be able to consult one of the reference tomes in the library. She knew she had to be careful, though, and anything that even had a hint of being a spell, anything in a verse form or that rhymed, paragraphs that mentioned ingredients, she would skipped. Most of it seemed like third hand stories from this place or that, retold so many times that no one could say how they had ever really started.

One passage mentioned the Dark One specifically, and after skimming a few paragraphs, Belle noted it for a later time. Anything that had to do with the Dark One and his magic could be useful in fighting against him or at least protecting herself from whatever King George might want the creature to do to her. She read through a story about portals to other realms, including one where ships could fly in the sky by sprinkling pixie dust on the sails, and another where horses grew wings and soared through the clouds.

She worked, almost entranced, for hours until the candles to either side of her desk were down to a length no more than her thumb. Stretching her arms back, she yawned and wiped off the quill on a rag. She rolled her shoulders as she stood up, feeling the weariness sink into her body.The papers with her notes and translations were tucked back into the desk drawer, under some old letters and blank pages. The book she wrapped up in her cloak again and set in the far back of her armoire with the other three.

She slid into bed and closed her eyes, the symbol of the serpent and sword flashing behind her eyes, lit up in shimmering gold. She shivered and told herself it was the cool touch of the sheets on her skin. Despite how tired she felt now, sleep still did not come easy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maurice stared at the parchment and ran a hand over his face. His stomach churned and he could feel the sharp pain of a headache pinching behind his eyes as he read the page again, praying the words would say something different this time. When it didn’t, he sighed and let the paper fall to the table.

He slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. King George didn’t know. He had no idea Belle was already married, and now here was a formal demand that their agreement be honored and Belle married to Prince James. There was also a not so thinly veiled threat to use the power of the Dark One against Avonlea.

Though no one fully understood the power the Dark One possessed, it was presumed to be infinite and terrible. Legends spoke of the Dark One that went back centuries. Who could know what power a being that old might wield?

There were more recent stories of the Dark One cutting swaths through hordes of ogres, of a terrible lightning reaching out of the clouds to strike everyone in a mile dead, leaving nothing behind but bones bleaching in the sun and the sick smell of death. It was said that the Ogre Wars only ended because a nobleman gave his soul to the Dark sorcerer, not because of any brave acts on the part of men. There was no way they could fight a war against that kind of dark magic. The lives they would lose, the destruction that could be caused - bile rose up in Maurice's throat and he pressed his fingers to his lips.

They needed a miracle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Sir Rumplestiltskin!”

“Belle! Um, Y-Your Grace.” He corrected himself and gave her a contrite look as she approached. 

Belle smiled and shook her head, not caring if a couple of maids in the corridor heard him call her by a familiar name. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” She reached out a hand to him, and he took it, giving her fingers a light squeeze. “Walk with me?”

He nodded, tucking the small paper wrapped package into the inside of his doublet as she slipped her arm through his.

“Congratulations,” he said after a moment.

“Oh,” she replied, looking away for a moment before she gave him a tight smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

He frowned, but didn’t want to ask if anything was wrong. It was not his place to know what went on in the Princess’s marriage.

They came to the small sitting room adjacent to her bedroom, where Ruby was setting down the tea service and a tray of cakes and pastries.

She let go of his arm and turned, flattening her hands over her skirts and brushing over them. “Join me for tea?”

“My pleasure, Your Grace.” He bowed, smiling.

“Oh, before I forget again,” he added, as she moved to sit. He pulled out the package and handed it to her with a half smile before he sat at the opposite end of the sofa. “I couldn’t find a time to give it to you before. So, consider this a wedding present, I guess.” He shrugged as she turned it over and around.

“There was no need, Sir.” She admonished, smiling as she eagerly tore into the package. “But I’m so glad you did!” The paper fell away revealing a dark brown leather book with gold lettering down the spine.

She turned it on end to read the title and gasped. “Oh! How did you know?”

He grinned, head dipped down for a moment, feeling a warm flush spread over his cheeks and up to his ears. “You kept looking at it and then putting it back, and then pulling it out again.” He shrugged. “I assumed you probably wanted to buy it, but you thought you already had too many.”

“Thank you!” She put a hand over his arm and looked up at him, her eyes bright.

“You like it?” His eyes were wide, a slight smile curving the corners of his lips.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, very much,” she insisted. Then she held the book to her chest and grinned, lifting her eyebrows at him as she leaned in, as if she was about to whisper a secret. “I’ll move it to the top of my reading list.”

He laughed. “I’m glad. I went back the next day, to Mr. Handley, and I wanted to give it to you right away, but then -.” He waved a hand and sighed. “So much has happened since then.”

Belle swallowed and nodded. “Yes, so much indeed.” Then she placed the book in her lap and looked down at it, running her fingertips up and down over the cover. “I hardly know what day it is anymore.”

“It’s almost the start of a new month, my lady.” She looked up at him and he smirked.

“Oh hush!” She swatted at his arm with her hand ineffectually. “It’s not nice to make fun of a newly married woman. Especially now that I’m out of my traditional _exile_.”

“Is that a written law in this land?” he asked, finally reaching for the teapot to pour their cups.

She sighed and picked up one of the little lemon cakes, placing it on the small plate nearest to her. “It should be with all the things a new wife is expected to do. And it’s not nice besides.”

He raised an eyebrow, and looked up from the first cup. “I meant the - um, exile.”

“Oh,” she said, shaking her head as if she should have known what he really meant. “Well, it’s tradition. It - it would be frowned upon if I did not, regardless of how _bored_ I was the whole time.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled awkwardly and then filled the second cup before setting the teapot back down on the silver tray. “I did hear that your husband was away.” 

She nodded and accepted the cup and saucer he offered her. “Yes, it was - necessary, unfortunately.”

She leaned forward and added a spoon of sugar to her tea, stirring it gently. The spoon made a little tink-tink noise against the sides of the cup that was almost musical, like a little bell. Rumplestiltskin caught himself smiling as he watched her gaze down into her teacup, stirring rhythmically. 

He knew then that he would miss her when he left.

“I suppose that means the war will start soon?” Rumplestiltskin asked. Then he took a tentative sip from his cup, eyes fixed on her over the rim.

“Perhaps,” she nodded. “It would be better if they could make it through the winter first. It would be a shame to ruin a perfectly good spring with so much bloodshed.”

The look she gave him seemed half facetious and half serious. The entire thing was a shame, but found he himself almost grinning in spite of her rather impolite quip.

He set his cup down on the saucer and let out a breath. The warmth of the tea and the fire should have felt relaxing, but it wasn’t. He sat stiffly and tightened his fingers on the edge of the saucer, the other hand splayed over his knee, fighting to keep them from shaking. All he could think about was that this was how his father must have felt when he’d been told he was being sent to the front lines against the ogres, a tight, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was made worse by the fact that now he felt like he had one more thing in common with Malcolm.

“I suppose I’ll be sent out soon too,” he said quietly.

Belle startled and rattled her cup and saucer. It hadn’t occurred to her that Rumpelstiltskin would have to go to war along with everyone else, but he was a knight and it was the duty of all who served the kingdom. It was a sobering thought. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was just above a whisper, and she barely kept the waver out of it before she was pressing her fingers to her lips.

“My lady?” He set his tea aside and shifted closer, seeing her distress.

She sucked in a breath and it sniffled a little in her nose. “It’s my fault isn’t it?” she asked, turning so she was facing him. “It’s my fault that you’re a knight. That you’ve been pulled into this mess.”

He shook his head. “I was already a soldier, my lady. I would have been in - _the mess_ , as you say - anyway.” He sighed, taking careful hold of her hand. “I doubt they would have let me leave the King’s service, even if my time was up. I imagine they’ll start up the draft again too.”

Belle paled. “I hadn’t thought of that. I just - I didn’t - _oh gods_!”

She sprung to her feet, her hands covering her face as she fought back tears.

“It’s okay. Please, my lady -,” Rumplestiltskin stood and moved to stand behind the Princess. “ _Belle_ , please.”

His voice was soft and gentle. Her hands fell from her face as his settled on her shoulders. She wanted to lean back against him, feel the solidness of him and let someone else hold her up just this once.

“This really is all my fault, you know,” she said quietly. “If I had married Prince James then -”

He sighed and let his hands drop. “Then you’d be even unhappier than you are now. And either way you’ll be a queen.”

Belle nodded and turned to face him. “Only by my husband’s right.” Rumplestiltskin frowned and she shook her head, giving him a flat smile. “Oh yes, that’s the part they don’t tell you until you’re older, after you’ve filled your head with stories, after you’ve made yourself into a naive _fool_. They don’t tell you that you only get to be queen, to be _something_ , if your husband lets you. It’s absurd! Marriage to me can make _my husband_ a king, but not _me_ his queen.”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed. She was very close, almost as close as before when - . He shook his head and tried to put their kiss out of mind. “You don’t need to be a queen to be something.”

“That doesn’t make me feel like less of a fool.” She looked at the floor, and at the tips of her slippers poking out from under her dress.

He took hold of one of her hands, cautiously raising it until he saw no objection in her eyes, only sadness. His lips pressed softly to her knuckles, and she gave him the briefest of smiles. “You’re not foolish, my lady.”

“Still,” she shrugged. He let go of her hand and her arms immediately wrapped around her body, her eyes downcast. “I keep hoping for the best, but nothing has been the way I imagined.”

“Hope doesn’t make you foolish, Belle.” Rumplestiltskin sighed, and lifted his hand to brush against her jaw until she looked up at him. “It makes you brave.”

Her face was tilted up and her blue eyes were shining, both with tears and with something else he couldn’t describe. Her lips curved slightly, almost smiling, but just as easily ready to pout or cry too. She was a mess of emotions and he knew he should take his leave, but then her hand was on his chest. Her palm slid up the soft velvet of his doublet, another of the gifts from the King, until she was pressing it right over his heart.

Belle bit back a gasp as she felt the thump of his heart under her hand. He’d called her brave. Her mother was the only other person to say that, and she really wanted to believe that was true. Was there bravery in doing one’s duty? In hiding in a castle while your authority sent thousands of men off to die? She didn’t think so. But Rumplestiltskin’s eyes looked so honest and warm and true.

He leaned in just a little, pushed back against her hand, the only part of her that was touching him, and fought the urge to wrap his arms around her again. He wanted to pull her to him and taste the sweetness of the tea from her lips. He thought she might want the same when she shifted forward a step and her head tilted -

The door swung open swiftly, the wood creaking in protest at such rough handling, and Rumplestiltskin practically jumped away from Belle. Their eyes immediately snapped to the doorway where Ruby came rushing through, seeming oblivious to what might have almost happened.

“My lady, you must come!” she exclaimed, hurrying to Belle’s side. She was out of breath and gasping. “The King, the Duke -”

Belle turned and took hold of her friend’s shoulders. “Slow down, Ruby. What is it?”

“They want you to come to the council chambers, my lady,” she panted. “King George - he - he doesn’t know. About Gaston.”

“Oh,” Belle gasped.

Ruby looked from Belle to Rumplestiltskin and back. “He’s summoned you to his court.” She had to stop, hand pressed to her chest, to take a deep breath. “To marry Prince James.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin and Belle arrived in the council room to chaos. Both King Maurice and Leopold were there, as well as Duke Humbert, Gaston, Avonlea's steward, and the captain of the guard, while several pages seemed to be coming and going with any manner of papers. One of the maids was setting a tea service and a pitcher of wine on a table by the hearth. Belle's eyes were wide and her mouth hung open a little. Two pages were handed papers and sent off in a hurry, nearly bowling over Rumplestiltskin on their way out the door.

Belle reached out and steadied him as he wobbled on one foot. He muttered a thanks and frowned over his shoulder in the direction the two young men had run.

Taking a breath, Belle marched forward into the room. "Father?"

Immediately the chatter ceased and all six men turned to face her. Maurice nervously adjusted his robes and then forced a smile, holding out a hand to her.

"Belle," He said. "Come, dearest."

Brows knitted, she moved to him and let him take her hand. Gaston reached out as she passed by to gingerly brush her arm and give her a tight smile, which she returned with a nod.

Maurice let go of her hand a picked up a rolled parchment. The wax seal was already broken.

Belle shook her head. “I don't want to read it, just tell me what we're going to do.”

“We don't know, Your Grace.” Leopold lead back in his chair by the fire, looking paler and older than Belle could remember ever seeing him. “It's not that you have been summoned, it's what he threatens to do if we don't send you.”

Belle looked at her father, her fingers curling into her skirts. “And what is that?”

Maurice licked his lips and glanced to Leopold before he spoke. “The Dark One. H-he is allied with King George. He works for him.”

Duke Humbert frowned. “But how? I still don’t understand. How could a king control a dark sorcerer? A sorcerer the legends say has limitless power!”

Belle swallowed as she remembered something from the book. She bit her lip and looked to Rumplestiltskin, who met her gaze with a thin smile and tight lines around his eyes, then across to Gaston. Gaston was absorbed in what his father was saying, going on about all the stories everyone was told from childhood about the Dark One and the evils of such magics.

The went back and forth for some time, Duke Humbert firmly in the camp of disbelief when it came to King George having any control over the Dark One. “It’s got to be a bluff,” he reasoned.

Edmund, the steward of Avonlea, rolled his eyes and huffed. He was a large man, both tall and wide, and was well known for being almost pathologically practical. He also never hid his feelings. If he disliked you, you knew. “Your Graces, please. We need to focus on protecting the people, securing the border towns -”

Belle finally opened her mouth to say what she’d been thinking but then King Leopold huffed and braced his hands on his hips. “Edmund, there won’t _be_ any towns left if the Dark One -”

Maurice dropped into his chair, slumped backwards both from fatigue and exasperation. “Gentlemen, can we -”

“He's in thrall,” Belle blurted. Her hand clamped over her mouth as every set of eyes looked to her.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and gaped at her. “ _What_?”

He’d been listening to the proceedings quietly, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing here, or why he’d been summoned along with the Princess. As soon as the exclamation was out of his mouth he snapped it shut, his eyes darting around the room as he felt everyone doing the same.

“The Dark One,” she explained, now that everyone was quiet. “He’s being _controlled_. He's not on anyone’s side.”

“How do you know?” Edmund frowned.

“He's never taken a side in a conflict between kingdoms before, why would he start now?” She shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her father stood again and moved towards her. “But, Belle, dear, he makes deals with people. King George must have -”

“No!” she insisted. “In every story, it's always about what the Dark One wants, what _he_ gains. That’s why he makes deals with people.”

Silence lingered for a moment as the men looked to each other and back to her in furtive glances. Only Rumplestiltskin’s eyes remained passive and soft. She caught his gaze and flashed him a tight smile. He blinked and the corner of his mouth curved a bit.

“The Princess might be right,” Edmund pondered. “What benefits is there to a powerful sorcerer if King George subjugates us? What could a king possibly offer the Dark One to do that?”

Belle smiled. “Exactly! In the book there was a mention of magical items that could be used to control others, and -”

They all stared at her. Rumplestiltskin’s eyebrows were nearly in his hair, and Gaston’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

Maurice reached out hesitantly to put his hand on her arm. “What book, Belle?”

She straightened a bit and shrugged off her father’s touch, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Um…”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, and Belle’s eyes landed on him again. He frowned, searching her face, watching her lips twist as she avoided answering her father’s question. Then startled, his eyes going wide. “Oh gods,” he whispered, and in the quiet of the room everyone shifted to look at him. “The Dark One’s books. He really did sell them to you after all.”

Maurice scowled and moved towards Rumplestiltskin, who took a hasty step back. Then the King stopped and turned back to his daughter. “What are you two talking about?”

Gaston bristled and rounded the end of the table. “If the Dark One is after the Princess, I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” King Leopold scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Slay him, Sir Gaston? That’s -”

“Your Majesty -” Gaston implored, throwing a scowl in Leopold’s direction before focusing his attention back at Maurice.

The Duke, who had been silent for some time, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head at his son. “ _Gaston_ -”

Belle’s eyebrows knit and her fingers curled into her skirts in annoyance. “Stop it! All of you!” 

The men immediately snapped to attention and looked at Belle. This time, instead of shying away from their looks, she scowled at them and crossed her arms over her chest.

“When we were at the market,” she began, looking to Rumplestiltskin as she spoke. “Before the Dark One revealed himself to us, I thought he was just a merchant, an old man selling random trinkets. But he had these books -”

Maurice chuckled in spite of the seriousness air of the room, and glanced up to the ceiling. “And my Belle can’t resist a good book.”

Belle frowned at her father, but her mouth was curling ever so slightly. “These were the oldest books I’ve ever _seen_ ,” she explained, and Maurice smiled. “I bought them all from him and he promised they would be delivered before sundown. But then he tried to poison me.”

She shrugged a little at the end as if it was no big deal, and Rumplestiltskin shook his head.

“And Sir Rumplestiltskin saved you,” Gaston declared, moving to clap a hand against Rumplestiltskin's shoulder.

Rumplestiltskin staggered a bit under the force of Sir Gaston’s hand, and then smiled wanly. “Y- yes, I supposed I did.”

Belle smiled at him fondly and folded her hands, fingers linked. “Yes, he did,” she echoed softly. He met her eyes briefly and she felt her face momentarily flush at the memory of what transpired. 

Then, shaking off the feeling, she continued. “After we returned to the castle, the sun was setting, and the books just -” She waved a hand towards the table. “They just - appeared. In my room. I turned around and they were there.”

King Maurice’s eyes widened. “In your _r-room_!” he sputtered. “How the devil -?”

“He’s the Dark One,” Leopold said, sighing. “I’m sure the walls of a castle are no defense against his magic.”

Maurice sobered and tugged at his robes again, nervously.

Rumplestiltskin frowned and turned to Belle. “But they just - _appeared_ in your room? You didn’t tell anyone? And you _kept_ them?!”

“I purchased them fairly!” Belle exclaimed, frowning back at him.

He momentarily faltered at her expression and then shook his head. “But they’re _the Dark One’s_ books!”

“They’re just books!” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms again, stepping forward to close the distance between them. “There’s no magic in them.”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head at her. “How do you know? You can’t know that for sure!”

“Because I looked at them!” She clamped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words were out and pressed her lips tight together.

After a few moments silence, in which Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure anyone even so much as breathed, Leopold leaned forward on the table. “You did what?”

Belle sighed. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I took one of the books out from where I hid them and started reading it.”

“Belle - what?” Maurice ran a hand over his face. “Why would you do something so foolish?”

“It wasn’t foolish, Papa! It was just stories. Retellings of myths and fairytales I’ve heard many times.” She shrugged and met her father’s eyes. "There were some that were new, but in all of them were all sorts of little bits of information about magic.” She swallowed and licked her lips, knowing that what she said next would just garner more shock and exasperation and chastisement. “Some even mentioned the Dark One.”

Rumplestiltskin let out the breath he was holding. “Gods, Belle.” The familiar name slipped out unbidden, but no one heard or reacted.

“There was mention of objects that could be cursed or enchanted to control others,” Belle continued. “And there was a story of how a lord once commanded a powerful witch to destroy his enemies so he could take over the kingdom.”

For a moment her eyes were bright and she was almost smiling as she recounted the story. Rumplestiltskin wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, yet it also seemed very Belle. Even in the most dire circumstances, she could appreciate a good story.

The Duke cocked his head and let out a short laugh. “You’re suggesting King George read a story in an old book and -”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “Maybe it’s not a story,” he said, shrugging. Everyone looked at him for the second time and he fought against every urge to hide. “We tell children stories to teach them lessons, right? We tell stories to remember things that happened long ago. Not all stories have to be just stories.”

Belle grabbed his arm and beamed at him. “Exactly!” Still holding on to him, she turned to the group. “I don’t think this book was meant to be a bunch of fanciful tales. I think it’s truly a history book of magic. Hidden in the stories.”

Gaston looked at her aghast. “My dear wife, you don’t know what you might have done!” He moved towards her, frowning. His voice seemed abnormally loud, reverberating around the high ceilinged room. He shook his head at her and looked to Maurice. “We should have these books examined by the clerics immediately.”

She immediately let go of Rumplestiltskin's arm. “No! I’m not giving them to any of you!”

Maurice sighed. “Belle, my dear -”

“No!”

She all but stomped her foot like a child, but Rumplestiltskin still took a healthy step backwards.

Maurice reached out for his daughter, but she shrugged him off. “Just tell us where -”

Belle huffed. “I’m not telling you where they are!” Her arms crossed again and she leveled a scowl at each man. “They’re _books_ and they can _help_ us!”

“Belle -” Maurice pleaded at the same time Gaston reached her side and said, “My lady -”

Leopold shook his head. “ _Princess_ \- “

“No!” she declared one final time before she pushed past all of them and stalked through the doors of the council room. The thud of her heels echoed as she ran down the hall.

Rumplestiltskin shut his eyes and sighed quietly. “Oh, gods!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle lurched through the double doors into the night air, feeling it tingle over her heated skin, sharply chilling the tears clinging to her cheeks. She stumbled a bit and braced herself on the garden gate before pushing it open and hurrying off between the hedges. The bare branches and dried leaves caught at her skirts, leaving small tears in the fine silk as she pushed by them. 

A fresh welling of tears blurred her vision as she ran, and she blinked, the wind brushing the drips from her face, leaving a dry, sticky feeling behind. She somehow found her way to the far back of the garden, through the old wrought iron fence and gate to a square surrounded by high hedges and arbors twined with dark green ivy. A sob wrenched itself free as she sank to her knees in the grass.

Belle hadn’t been back here in years, but it felt like yesterday that she had dug her fingertips into the rich, black earth, clawing and grasping for something she couldn’t name. She had knelt there for hours, until it was supper time and a light rain had dampened her hair, causing it to curl around her face and stick to her neck. It had left her fingers raw, nails caked with dirt, and one had broken and bled onto her dress. Her governess finally came with a blanket and wrapped her up, all but dragging her back inside. 

She looked up and blinked, reaching out a tentative hand towards the sleek carved stone. 

_Collette_.

The name stared back at her, stark and plain, chiseled into the middle of the shiny, black granite. Her fingertips lightly traced the angled edges of the name, now worn smooth with time and weather.

"M-mother." She pressed her hand flat against the stone and took a shaky breath. “Mama,” she gasped. 

Tears dripped onto the ground, lost in the soft blades of grass.

“Tell me what to do! _Help me_!” She screamed. Her shoulders heaved with her breathing and the ragged sobs that gasped from her throat.

There was no answer but the wind.

After a few minutes, Belle wiped her cold palms over her cheeks and pushed to her feet. Her knees were damp and dirty all the way through the layers of her skirt and petticoat to her stockings, but she didn't care. There was no one here to judge her.

She stared down at the grave marker. It had seemed so much larger and heavier when she was younger, but it was not much larger than a tea tray and only as thick as her largest book. Hardly the monument most would think of to commemorate a queen, but her mother wouldn't have wanted more than this.

Sighing, Belle turned to leave and then stopped. Behind her she could sense something. There was an odd warmth at her back, a light spilling out onto the dark grass around her feet, casting a long shadow in front of her. She spun around and blinked as an intense ball of blue light emanated from above her mother’s gravestone, growing brighter and bigger until Belle had to raise her arm and shield her eyes.

A moment later it dissipated, replaced with a more tolerable glow, and at the center, hovering in mid air not two feet from her was a fairy.

Belle stumbled backwards and gazed up at the tiny woman fluttering her wings. She started to bend as if to kneel but the creature stopped her.

“There is no need to kneel, Princess,” she said. Her voice was high pitched and musical. “Do you know who I am?”

Belle straightened and nodded. “Y-you’re a fairy.”

The little woman smiled like a nanny might smile at a small child. “I am Reul Ghorm.” Belle swallowed nervously and the fairy tilted her head.

“The Blue Fairy,” Belle muttered. She knew fairies existed, somewhere in the world, but she’d never seen one in person, much less the one they said ruled over all other fairies. “Wh-what do you want?”

The light became too bright again, but faded as soon as it had swelled, leaving a much - _bigger_ \- fairy behind. She frowned and stretched her shoulders, rolling her neck to either side, seeming unused to the rapid change to a full sized body.

“I don’t _want_ anything,” Reul Ghorm replied, shaking her head and tossing her reddish curls. Her voice was lower, but still had a strange echoic quality to it that left Belle unsettled. 

The fairy smiled again, her skirts, layered like flower petals, rustling as she stepped towards Belle. “I am here to help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might be wondering about how Belle gets to be queen, what I’m doing here is if a man marries a princess, that puts him next in line for the throne. So he automatically becomes King when it’s time. But he has to officially make the princess a queen, or she remains a princess. Sort of like how Prince Phillip is still a prince, despite being married to Queen Elizabeth. If there is a queen, then she trumps everyone and is next in line to rule if the king dies. If there isn’t, then a regent would rule alongside the princess until she marries again. It’s just another barrier to women in this world that no one has changed. I’m doing this so it can become a small plot point later on. :)


	8. The Blue Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Fairy comes to the rescue as the real adventure is about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I should be back on an every two weeks-ish posting schedule with this, if not slightly more frequent. I really like this chapter because it sets up some things for the entire rest of the story and it's the last chapter before we get to the real adventure. I hope you all enjoy it too. Your comments keep me writing. <3

Belle let out the breath she’d been holding and fell to her knees.

She wanted to weep, to scream, to laugh with utter relief. Her family had never been very religious, catering to the clerics when necessary, but she felt as though her prayers had been answered. She looked up at the Blue Fairy and smiled, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

“Oh,” the fairy gasped softly. Then she knelt down in front of Belle. “Please don’t cry, Princess.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle replied, swiping at her cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re real!”

The Blue Fairy laughed lightly, a twittering almost musical sound, and took Belle’s hands, pulling her to her feet as she stood. “I am very real, Your Majesty.”

The fairy’s hands felt warm against Belle’s, and she gave them a squeeze before stepping back. “H-how can you help me?”

Reul Ghorm tilted her head, making her red curls bounce and sway. “By protecting you from the Dark One,” she explained. Then she looked around the small corner of the garden, her eyes narrowed sharply, before she looked back to Belle. “We should go inside, Princess. With magic there are eyes everywhere.”

Belle shivered and nodded, turning back towards the path to the castle. Light engulfed the fairy, once more reducing her to her miniature size, her wings casting off glittering sparkles as they fluttered behind her. Belle blinked in amazement and then shook her head, heading off on the stone path. The Blue Fairy followed behind her, both of them silent until they reached the doors Belle had come through.

“My father and the others,” Belle started, holding the door open as she looked back at the tiny fairy nervously. “They are in the council room. We were - discussing - the Dark One.”

The Blue Fairy nodded and gestured with her wand. “Lead the way.”

They stepped through the door to gasps and wide eyed stares. Two guards stepped forward but stopped with a quick look from their Princess. A maid scurried away, holding her skirts. Belle straightened her spine and shoulders, calling on every ounce of regal confidence she had to keep her face passive as she strode down the corridor to the council room, with a fairy flying behind her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There were more gasps and stares when they entered the council chambers, and Belle had to fight back a giggle as Rumplestiltskin nearly fell out of the chair he’d taken while she was gone. He stumbled to his feet, and blinked at her.

“Is that - ?” Maurice stammered, pointing at the small glow next to his daughter.

With a flick of her wrist, the Blue Fairy was surrounded with light again, softer this time, and when it faded she was normal sized, smiling.

“The Blue Fairy -” Leopold fell back into his chair, almost toppling it over into the hearth if Edmond hadn’t caught it.

“Reul Ghorm,” Maurice said, stepping forward with his hands wrapped around the collar of his robe. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence?”

“I am not here for you, Your Majesty,” she said, gliding forward and passed King Maurice to stand at the head of the table. No one dared to say anything about her taking the King’s rightful place. “I am here for Princess Belle.”

Belle swallowed and moved to stand by her father, her hands flexing and curling her fingers into her skirts.

“I can protect you,” the fairy continued. “I can make it so the Dark One can’t find you.”

“H-how?” Belle managed, her tongue feeling pasty and her mouth too dry.

Reul Ghorm smiled. “I will enchant something, something you keep on your person at all times. It will block the Dark One’s ability to locate you with any spell, or through use of a mirror.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned and looked at her with uncertainty. “A mirror?”

“Mirrors,” she explained, “can be enchanted, or used with a locator spell to show where someone is, anywhere in the realm. They can even be used to spy on someone.”

Belle gasped, and there were murmurs and frowns from Leopold, Edmund, and Gaston. Rumplestiltskin just frowned more. His aunts had said to never trust in magic, and told him all the stories of how people foolishly thought it would solve all their problems. They usually ended up with more trouble than they originally had, and he wondered why this fairy, the leader of all the fairies, cared about protecting Belle from the Dark One. Surely it was a risk to go up against the Dark One. Was Reul Ghorm that powerful?

The fairy motioned for Belle to come to her, and smiled as the Princess carefully stepped forward. “Do you have something?” she asked. “Something special, something you would never part with?”

“I’m not sure.” Belle fidgeted a moment, and then looked down at her hands. She didn’t have a wedding ring yet. Things had happened too fast for them to have anything made, but then she smiled, and held out her right hand. “My grandmother’s ring.”

Reul Ghorm took hold of the Princess’s hand with her own, lifting it up with gentle pressure from her fingertips until it was level with her eyes. She smiled at the thin gold band and the small green stone it held. It was plain, simple. It would blend in well wherever she went, whoever she pretended to be, peasant or noble.

“My - my mother had it before me,” Belle said, glancing from the ring to the Blue Fairy’s face and back again.

“It’s lovely,” the fairy replied, smiling that slight little smile, her lips never parting. “Now, close your eyes, Princess.”

Belle blinked and then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself, just as the fairy raised her shiny, blue wand. Beside her she heard Rumplestiltskin gasp and then there was a warm, tingling sensation that settled over her hand. It crept up her arm, and she felt her face flush hot, letting out a quiet _oh_. Her eyes fluttered open and she winced at the bright glow emanating from her hand, centered on the ring on her middle finger. She squeezed her eyes shut again and turned her face away.

A moment later, she couldn’t feel the glow heating the side of her face and opened her eyes. She pulled her hand back and examined the ring, turning it with her fingers, but it didn’t look any different.

“You won’t be able to tell,” the Blue Fairy said, pressing her hands together in front of her petaled skirts. “The spell is invisible. But -” she paused holding up one finger, “if the Dark One or another user of magic is near, they may be able to sense it. So it would be best to find somewhere safe and out of the way to hide.”

Duke Humbert rocked back on his heels and glanced to King Maurice. “I was going to suggest that the Princess might stay at the orchard.”

Maurice looked thoughtful. “Orchard?”

“Yes,” the Duke nodded. “It's my wife's sister's estate, been in their family for generations. They live in the valley and the winters are very mild there. The gardens bloom nearly year round.”

“Oh! I think I would like that very much.” Belle smiled and continued to toy absently with her newly enchanted ring. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

King Maurice nodded and turned, giving the Duke a broad smile. “Yes, thank you, Duke Humbert. You are most generous.”

“Nonsense.” Gaston gestured to Belle and said, “My Lady is family now, and we will always help family, right father?” He looked to the Duke for confirmation who nodded and gave Gaston an odd, scowling look.

“Of course.” Then he turned his attentions back to the King and Princess. “It’s at least three days to my estate by horse and carriage, another two days after that to the far side of the valley.”

Sweeping back to his daughter, Maurice rubbed his chin. “We'll begin preparing a caravan immediately. You can leave in four -”

Reul Ghorm, frowned and shook her head. “I think that may be a bit - _excessive_ , Your Majesty. The Princess should be as unobserved as possible in her travels.”

Rumplestiltskin had to agree with the fairy, despite his misgivings about her intentions. “Ah - the uh - I mean, she’s right,” he said gesturing to the fairy. “A caravan would be more than noticed. All the small villages have in the winter months is gossip and the solstice festivals. Word travels like the wind.”

Maurice looked thoughtful for a moment, opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Gaston. “The Princess will still require some sort of protection for her journey.” Then he moved towards Belle, his head slightly tilted as he pressed a hand to his chest. “I would escort you, my Lady, but I am afraid I leave the day after tomorrow for Marchlands.”

“So soon?” Belle gasped. She looked at the floor momentarily and then met her husband’s eyes. “But - I thought -”

The Duke inclined his head. “Needs must.”

Belle sighed. She didn’t want to talk about this in front of everyone. “I - y-yes.” She gave Gaston a smile, but her brows were slightly knitted with concern. He stepped closer and took her hand, squeezing it.

“I _am_ sorry,” he insisted. “But I believe I would be better served on the front lines with my men.”

Belle felt heat in her face as anger unexpectedly rose in her that her own husband felt preparing for war was more important than seeing to her protection. But she swallowed and nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m sure we can find guards to send with you and ensure your safety,” Maurice said. Then he looked to the fairy. “A noble woman traveling with a few guards shouldn’t be nearly as noticed, yes?”

The Blue Fairy looked uncertainly at Belle.

After a moment, Belle smiled at her father. “Sir Rumplestiltskin can take me.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes went wide. “I can?”

“Of course,” she replied, raising her eyebrows at him. She hoped he understood what she was doing. It wasn’t just that she did trust him to protect her with his very life, she was also trying to save him from being sent to war and probably killed by the Dark One.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “I would be honored, Your Majesty, if - if the King approves?”

Maurice pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. “Of course, Sir Rumplestiltskin. You have certainly more than proven yourself capable. Though I am afraid I will still fear for my daughter until this entire mess is over.”

Belle tilted her head and smiled fondly at her father. “Of course you will, Papa.” She pulled her hand away from Gaston and took both her father’s hands in hers. “I will be fine. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“Oh, I hope so my child.” Then he sighed, let go of his daughter’s hands, and looked to the Blue Fairy. “Will you be able to protect Sir Rumplestiltskin as well?”

The Blue Fairy looked Rumplestiltskin up and down, frowning. Rumplestiltskin tried not to fidget but couldn’t help shifting his stance a bit under her scrutiny.

“Of course I can,” she said, finally. “But I will need another object to enchant. Something like Princess Belle’s ring. Do you have anything, Sir Knight?”

Belle’s lips twisted as she looked around the room, scanning the surfaces as if something would just appear. 

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and shrugged. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t.”

“Take this, Sir.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked and then looked up at Gaston who had turned to him and was holding out a gold ring with a large oval stone. The stone was mostly a pale blue, but it had swirls of white and darker blues running through it. There was even some grey shades on one edge. It was beautiful, and reminded Rumplestiltskin of the jade stones prized in the far eastern empire.

He reached for the ring hesitantly, and when his fingers finally brushed it, Gaston dropped it into his open palm. “Why?” he asked.

Gaston smiled slightly, only the one corner of his mouth curving up. “That was my grandfather’s ring,” he explained, glancing towards his father who was scowling. “He was a very brave knight and that ring was his talisman, protecting him through three wars. He gave it to me when I was just a lad and told me it was good luck, that it would protect me as it had him.”

Then he sighed and looked at Belle. “If I am not able to be there to protect my wife, then that ring will be.” Belle gave him a shaky smile and then Gaston turned back to Rumplestiltskin. “And it will help _you_ , Sir Rumplestiltskin, to protect her in my stead.”

“I am honored, Sir Gaston.” Rumplestiltskin bent at the waist in a bow of respect, and Gaston did the same. Then he slid the ring on his middle finger, and looked to the Blue Fairy. “Will this do?”

The Blue Fairy smiled the broadest smile they’d seen yet and nodded. “It will do very well. You are quite generous, Sir Gaston.”

Gaston gave the fairy a slight nod of his head, and then met Rumplestiltskin’s eyes briefly. Rumplestiltskin was secretly glad that Gaston seemed to have the same trepidation of the Blue Fairy as he did.

“Come here, Sir Rumplestiltskin,” the fairy beckoned.

Rumplestiltskin stepped forward, and held out his hand for her to take. The process was nearly the same as with the Princess, except for a few words the fairy muttered at the end. They seemed to be in some other language, but she said them so quietly he could barely hear them. He was sure no one else did either. It made him even more suspicious of her intentions.

“There,” she declared with that same ethereal voice, and Belle shivered again. “You are as protected as my magic allows. The rest is up to you.” 

She spread her hands wide, addressing the entire room and not just Belle and Rumplestiltskin. But then she fixed Belle with a hard stare that had the Princess feeling like she needed to step back from something. “Please take care, Princess.”

Belle nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I will. And so will Sir Rumplestiltskin.”

Reul Ghorm’s eyebrows lifted a touch, and then she nodded once. “Of course he will.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The group dispersed a short while later, after it was decided that the Princess _and_ Sir Rumplestiltskin should leave immediately. The Blue Fairy filed out of the room with them, her arm linked through Belle’s as she said something that was clearly only for the Princess’s ears.

Whatever it was made Belle smile, but Rumplestiltskin was still uncertain and concerned about why the fairies were getting involved. He was mostly curious why the mother of all fairies was here and not one of her many lackeys. Perhaps threats from the Dark One rated high enough to require the presence of Reul Ghorm herself.

Frowning, Rumplestiltskin saw Belle lead the Blue Fairy to the doors to the garden. He followed after them, hanging back just enough that when the fairy stepped through the doors and Belle turned to leave, neither noticed him slip through behind her.

He watched as the fairy raised her wand and a swirling glow wound around her, shrinking her back to her usual size. It was harder to follow her in this form, and she flitted about like a small bird, skimming the tops of the shrubbery and hedges.

She abruptly stopped and turned, flying straight towards him and coming to stop just inches from his nose.

“Something I can help you with, Sir Rumplestiltskin?” She smiled and crossed her arms.

Rumplestiltskin startled and leaned back a bit. “Um, well -”

The Blue Fairy tilted her head. “I presume you followed me out here for a reason?”

He nodded and swallowed. “Yes. I’m just curious why the Blue Fairy would be so interested in -”

“Sir Rumplestiltskin!”

Rumplestiltskin spun on his heel to see Belle hurrying towards him.

“Oh!” She gasped, coming to a stop just behind him. “Reul Ghorm, I - that is I -”

The fairy zipped around Rumplestiltskin and hovered in front of Belle. “It’s alright, Your Majesty.”

Belle glanced from the fairy to Rumplestiltskin and back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I couldn’t find Sir Rumplestiltskin, so - I came looking for him.”

“For me?” he asked. “Why?”

“Well -,” she started. Then she frowned looked back at Reul Ghorm and shrugged. “Thank you, Reul Ghorm. For coming to my aid.”

The Blue Fairy smiled and flew backwards a short distance. “You are very welcome, Princess. I truly wish you, and Sir Rumplestiltskin,” she said, looking directly at him, “a safe journey.”

Belle smiled and then looked to Rumplestiltskin. A bright flash of light forced both of them to squeeze their eyes shut and when it went away, the Blue Fairy was gone.

“Damn,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, frowning.

Belle touched his arm, making him turn to her. “What’s wrong? Why were you trying to talk to the Blue Fairy?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “I just don’t understand why she would show up here, so suddenly, and help us without asking for anything in return.

Belle tilted her head. “Why do you mistrust her?”

“And why do you trust her at all?” he snapped.

Belle startled, feeling a slight rush of fear at his tone. “Rumplestiltskin?” 

She was looking at him with wide eyes and her bottom lip between her teeth and her voice was far too soft. He sighed.

“I'm sorry,” he said, shaking his head. But the Princess huffed and turned, moving away from him. “Belle - _please_.” He begged, and she stopped, exhaling and then turning back to him. “The Blue Fairy has always sided against dark magic and evil. Why wouldn't she come to our assistance?”

He shrugged and gave her an apologetic look. “I'm sorry. I just -.” He sighed. “My father -” He swallowed and shook his head. “My family doesn't have a very good history with magic.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and then reach for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. Whatever was in Sir Rumplestiltskin’s past regarding magic seemed to distress him, and she didn’t want that. “I’m sorry too.” 

He shook his head again. “It’s no matter. If these rings work as she said, we will be much safer with them.”

At that Belle brightened and nodded. “We need all the help we can get against the Dark One, don’t you think?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, the corner of his mouth curving up. “Indeed. I do feel better knowing he can’t spy on us.”

Belle beamed at him, and slipped her arm through his. “And now we need to pack for our journey!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin walked Princess Belle to her room, as he had done several times during his stay in Avonlea, but this time instead of their usual idle chat, they were quiet.

He had to admit he didn’t quite know what to say. He had come too close to admitting something in the garden, something of his past, his family. Thankfully, she had seen his discomfort and let it go, but he knew there might come a day when she would find out the the true depth of his shame He lacked the bravery to be a knight. He was just a lowly spinner turned soldier and when this was all over he’d return to a poor, tiny village that didn’t want him.

He sighed, and Belle glanced sideways at him. “Something the matter, Sir?”

Shaking his head, he gave her a half smile. “No, just tired, anxious to leave tomorrow.” He shrugged too, and she nodded.

“I feel the same.” She looked out of the windows as they wound their way up the narrow back staircase. “I always wanted to go on a great adventure.” Her voice was a bit wistful and her hand absently tightened around his arm.

Rumplestiltskin smiled. He could easily see the desire for travel and adventure, to live the stories in her books. “Well, we’ll be leaving on one tomorrow.”

She tipped her head up and smiled at him. Then she looked away again, out the windows and then back to him again. “A few days ride to Estoria is hardly an adventure.”

He shrugged and she sighed.

“I supposed you have had so many that you think adventure is overrated,” she said, her eyes fixed on the floor a few paces in front of them. “Or that it’s for the daydreams of children.”

“Hardly,” he replied, shaking his head. He looked over at her and she smiled. “You know, you were, um, you were great back there. In the council room I mean.”

She looked away and swallowed. “I’m afraid I may have gotten a bit carried away.”

“Nonsense,” he assured her. Then he looked at the floor and sighed. “If anyone got carried away, it was me. I didn't mean to - to sound like I was _scolding_ you, my Lady. "

She shook her head. "Oh, I know you were only thinking about my safety." She patted his arm with her free hand and he nodded.

"Honestly, it felt like you were the only one in that room who wasn't scolding me," she added, sighing.

Everyone in that room except Rumplestiltskin had tried to talk over her or ignore her, as if she wasn't standing right there while talked about her. She was used to it with her father. She knew he loved her, but in his eyes she would forever be his little girl, not a woman with her own mind that deserved to be heard. Gaston's brush off and near condescension was unexpected. She had believed they were on a more equal footing than that, and it worried her that she might have misjudged him so.

Rumplestiltskin was about to respond when they reached the top of the stairs. Looking down the corridor, he could see a tall, broad figure standing rigid at the doorway to the Princess’s room.

“It appears your husband is waiting for you, my Lady.”

She made a small noise, and he frowned. He couldn’t tell from her expression whether she was happy to see Gaston or not. As they approached, she moved away from him, and he let his arm fall to his side. Once she was at Gaston’s side, he took her hand, kissed the back of it gently, and then nodded to Rumplestiltskin.

“Sir Rumplestiltskin,” he said. “Thank you for escorting the Princess, and for ensuring her safety on the journey ahead.”

Rumplestiltskin bowed at the waist. “It is no matter, Sir Gaston. I am honored to serve the Princess.”

There was a look from Belle, something soft, and the corner of her mouth curved for barely a moment before her expression was impassive again.

“Gentlemen," she said, "I have many things to do this evening. I should prepare for tomorrow and then retire for the night.”

She made to enter her room when Gaston stopped her with a hand on her arm. He didn’t squeeze or even really hold her, and she was surprised by how gentle he could be for someone so large and imposing.

“If I might have a few moments, my Lady?” His eyebrows were lifted, hopefully, and she nodded.

“Certainly, my Lord.” Then she turned to Rumplestiltskin and smiled slightly. “I will see you tomorrow Sir Rumplestiltskin?”

Rumplestiltskin bowed once more, a little lower, and when he straightened there was that sad softness in her eyes again. “Of course, Your Grace. Good night.” He nodded to Gaston again and bid him a good evening as well, then headed for the main staircase to go up to his room.

Belle entered her chambers, followed by Gaston, and walked straight over to her dresser. She began pulling the pins from her hair that held the sides up and away from her face, and then eased the shiny gold comb from the back. Setting the pins and the comb aside in a small decorative marble box, and turned to see Gaston still standing by the door. He was playing with the dangling strap of his belt and looking around as if he’d never been in her room before, or he was afraid she’d notice he had no right to be there.

“Sir Gaston?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. His eyes snapped to her, and at her slight smile he took a step forward. “You can come all the way into the room. You _are_ my husband after all.”

He nodded and moved towards her, then stopped a few feet away and motioned towards the sofa by the hearth. “Shall we sit, my Lady?”

Belle took a breath and fixed him with a look, but moved to sit on the sofa anyway. “I have much to do before we leave in the morning.”

“I understand,” he replied, and dropped down beside her, his weight shifting the bench a little.

He took a breath, reaching for her hand, and she turned her palm, watching his hand wrap around hers and sighing a little at how warm his skin felt.

“As do I,” she said, finally, looking up to meet his eyes. “I know your place is on the frontlines, you don’t have to explain it to me again.”

He huffed a little. “My lady, I didn’t -”

“ _Belle_ ,” she insisted. “And no. You didn’t.” Then she sighed and stood up, hating how petty she was being, but still feeling that she had every right. Her husband should want to be by her side, shouldn’t he?

“I’m sorry.” He stood and moved to her, resting his hand on her arm. “Truly.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him and he seemed earnest, in a way he hadn’t before.

“My father -,” he started and then he shrugged. “I’m sure you know how they can be.”

Reaching back she laid her hand over his, where it still rested on the upper curve of her shoulder, and rubbed his fingers with hers. “I do,” she agreed. “More now than ever, I suppose.”

Gaston licked his lips, exhaled a breath that she felt brush against her bare neck. Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek, a quick peck before he pulled back. She turned around and watched as he crossed half the distance back towards the door. Then he turned back with a small smile on his lips. “Sir Rumplestiltskin _will_ protect you.”

“I know,” she sighed and nodded. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? She did know, in the way that she knew the sun would rise in the east every morning.

Rumplestiltskin had saved her life once already, and she had no doubt he would again and as many times as he was called to. She wondered, now, if she could say the same for her husband. What she had seemed so assured of a short time ago had been shaken. Perhaps her father was right, she spent too many hours with her head buried in books.

“Goodnight - Belle,” he said, holding open the door to her bedroom.

She nodded and flashed him a tight smile. “Goodnight, Gaston.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin lay awake, staring up into the shadows of the curved ceiling.

Faint trails of silver moonlight peeked in from between the heavy velvet curtains over the windows on either side of the bed. It crept up in sharp angles, splitting into lines along the walls like long fingers, bending into the cracks and mortar joints between the stones. He shivered and stretched his legs down until he could feel the warming brick with his feet and pressed against it.

There would be many chilly nights ahead for him, and for the Princess. He wasn’t sure what they would find on the way, if there were inns or villages to take them in. He was prepared to sleep on the cold, half frozen ground, but was she? What business did he have escorting a princess anywhere?

He shook his head and rolled over, holding up his left hand and eyeing Gaston’s ring. The stone seemed lighter somehow, almost sparkling in the dim light. As he stared at it the swirls of grey and green moved, like smoke, turned on themselves in little tendrils, over and around until he blinked and the ring was solid again.

Rubbing his eyes, he pushed back the blanket and sat up.

Shivering again, he stood and crossed to the fireplace, wrapping the blanket around him. The flames had dulled to only a few hot embers, so he took two logs from the basket next to the hearth and set them in the middle of the coals, blowing gently until the flames leapt and caught at the wood. He sat back in one of the chairs, staring into the flames, watching as they grew and curled up and over the logs.

Behind him, stacked to one side of the door, were all his current worldly belongings, packed into two satchels.

He snorted out a laugh and shook his head. It was sad really.

In the Frontlands at least he’d had the cottage and a spinning wheel. Even if he had a terrible family reputation, he could still make a living. What would he be able to do after all this? After Belle no longer needed him to protect her? After Gaston returned victorious from a new war?

Would he have anything to show beyond a shiny new sword and armor and a title he never wanted? Could he really go back to his village like none of it had ever happened?

The heat of the fire had slowly seeped into him and he felt his eyelids grow heavy, his vision a little less clear. With a soft grunt, he pushed to his feet and shuffled back to the bed, all but falling onto the mattress with the blanket still wound around him. As he slipped back into the comfortable darkness of sleep, he remembered something one of his Aunts had said, just days after they buried her sister. 

It was no use worrying about the future, she told him, it would be here soon enough.


	9. Belle's Big Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Ruby have a heart to heart, and the princess and the knight depart on their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That thing where I swore I wasn't going to take so long to update again? Apparently I'm a liar. UGH. I'm so sorry. You should all know I'm the worst and I love you for sticking with me. This chapter sets up some things for the future and has a tiny bit of foreshadowing and hints of backstory.

Belle awoke early and anxious as the sun was just peeking over the horizon.

Before Ruby brought breakfast, an hour earlier than usual, she had unpacked and repacked her bags twice. She was frowning at them, sure there were so many things she was forgetting, when Ruby knocked on the door.

“Your Grace?” she called out, then she poked her head around the edge of the door. She spied the Princess’s bags on the floor and her travel cloak spread over the end of the bed, and frowned. “Ready to leave already?”

Belle nodded and moved to help Ruby with the breakfast tray. She moved a little stiffly, unaccustomed to the tightness of the leather clothing she wore.

“So soon?” Ruby asked, lips pursing as she started to pour the tea.

Belle sighed. “We need to make good time in getting to the border. The Duke has some of his personal guards who will meet us there and take us the rest of the way.”

“It will be nice to spend the winter in the south.” Ruby glanced back to the Princess as she fussed with adding sugar and milk to the tea.

Belle only hummed and moved from the table back to her bed, where she toyed with the straps on one of her saddlebags with one hand as she sipped her tea. Ruby kept giving her sidelong glances as she spread the contents of the breakfast tray over the table.

“Has Gaston left?” Belle asked, turning to Ruby.

Ruby looked up from the table and pressed her lips together for a moment before she nodded. “Just before first light, my lady.”

Belle sighed and let her head drop, staring her slippers where they sat on the floor at the side of her bed, the side she always got out on in the mornings because of the warmth of the sunlight spread across the floor. She had known Gaston would leave before her, it was why he came to her room last night, but whatever he had thought might happen there, she hadn’t been interested. She was too anxious, too - _annoyed_ , if she was honest. Gaston’s behavior in the council room had touched a nerve, one she had previously not been that aware of.

Belle’s mother had never discouraged her, only made it a point to let her know she _could_ , and _should_ , always try. There were seemingly arbitrary limits on women in this world, even those who could become a queen.

“Are you alright?” Ruby’s gentle voice snapped Belle from her thoughts.

She nodded, moving back to the bed and eyeing the clothes she’d laid out. “Help me with this cloak?”

Ruby smiled and stood in front of the Princess. “So, you don’t think this is a bad idea then?”

“Why?” Belle questioned, looking back at Ruby over her shoulder after depositing her nightgown on the bed. “There’s no other option, I’m afraid. As much as I don’t want to leave home, I’d much rather be far away if there’s a war.”

Ruby fastened the two pins together on Belle’s cloak and exhaled. “There. You look like a proper adventurer.”

Belle laughed lightly and looked down at herself. Where she would normally see a fine dress and heeled slippers, instead there were soft leather breeches with high wool stockings underneath, a plain cotton shirt, long sleeved, and a fitted vest. Her boots stood near the fireplace, warming.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous,” Belle said. She looked up at Ruby and shrugged. “But I’ve always wanted to see the world.”

“And traveling with Sir Rumplestiltskin?” Ruby asked, cautiously. She moved back to their breakfast and picked up a slice of apple.

She was glad Ruby had brought only fruits and some toast for breakfast. Her nerves wouldn’t have let her eat much else, and she figured she might as well get used to not eating as much anyway. They would only have the food they could carry with them, or what they could possibly procure at an inn or tavern. At least until she reached the orchard.

She was still uncertain about trusting Gaston’s family, people she had never met from another kingdom entirely, and to whom she was now only barely related. But she kept reminding herself that Rumplestiltskin would be there, and the thought calmed her. She was hopeful that he could remain for the duration of her stay in Estoria. Certainly they wouldn’t deny a princess her sworn protector?

“I’ve no doubt I’ll be safe with him,” Belle replied. “He’s - he’s a good man. And a good friend.”

“Of course.” Ruby said, smiling knowingly.

After a few quiet moments, Ruby took a breath and then moved to sit on the sofa beside Belle. 

The Princess looked up from her plate. “Ruby, what -”

Ruby leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Belle’s shoulders, squeezing Belle against her body. “I’m sorry, Belle.”

Belle caught the hitch in her friend’s voice, and shifted back for a second so she could wrap her arms properly around Ruby as well. “It’ll be okay, Ruby, you’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Ruby said, her words muffled by her attempts not to cry. “But I will miss you, terribly.”

Belle smiled and laughed, moving back to take her friend’s hands in hers. “And I shall miss you. But it won’t be forever.”

Ruby shook her head. “You don’t really know that, Belle.”

The Princess sighed. "No, I don't suppose I do. But I -" She paused and took a breath, squeezing Ruby's hands. "I hope it's true. And I read once that it's brave to have hope."

Ruby smiled at that and nodded. "Then I will stay here and be brave and hope for your return."

"And I will do the same," Belle answered.

Then Ruby pulled her hands away, reached inside her shirt, and pulled out a long, thin silver chain with a medallion on the end of it. She lifted it over her head and let it coil into one of Belle's open palms before pressing her friend's fingers around it.

"Just in case hope isn't enough," Ruby said. 

Belle frowned and opened her hand, shifting the necklace around until she could see the image in the medallion. Embossed in the center of a circle of ivy branches was a wolf's head, tilted back as if it was howling. On the back side was a crescent moon, and her breath caught as she looked up and met Ruby's eyes.

“Ruby,” Belle gasped, her eyes wide, “I can’t.”

Ruby shook her head. “You can and you will. _Please_ , Belle. If you get into trouble, you can go to my grandmother. She’s in a little town on the coast called Orma. She has supporters there, friends.”

Belle tried to interrupt her friend, but stopped again when Ruby held up a firm hand. “Look, she may not recognize you,” Ruby explained. “But show her this and she’ll protect you.” She’ll know I gave it to you.”

Belle sighed and begrudgingly looped the necklace over her head, tucking it under her shirt alongside her mother’s necklace. “It won’t come to that, you know. I’m going to be fine.”

“I hope not,” Ruby agreed. “But if it does, I just - I want to know you’re safe. Granny can get word to us if need be.”

“Thank you,” Belle said after a moment. “I know how much this means to you. I’ll make sure you get it back.” 

Belle smiled, and Ruby nodded, taking Belle’s hands in hers again.

The two women exchanged a knowing look, and then the Princess enveloped her friend in another hug, squeezing a little harder because she knew it would be the last they would share for a long while. She hoped Ruby wouldn’t worry too much, that her brave face had allayed some of the fear, but the warm weight of Ruby’s medallion lay heavy against her skin, adding to the uneasy weight she already felt in her chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin tugged the saddle strap again, making his way around the horse as his mind whirled.

He was minutes from leaving Avonlea, but not in the way he thought he would. He wasn’t being left to return to another military unit or being sent to the front of a new war. Nor was he being left to his own devices, sent off with a pocket full of gold as he’d hoped when he made his way here with a gooey dragon’s heart in his saddle bag. No, he was now the person singularly responsible for the safety of Princess Belle.

 _Oh, gods_.

Right back where he started as it were, between a rock and a hard place, though at least the hard place this time wasn’t a fire breathing dragon. Small favors, he supposed, as he made another lap around his mount, eyeing every buckle and bag.

As he came around to the front of the animal, only to be nosed roughly in the shoulder, he stopped.

Belle made her way down the steps into the stable area, her dark red cloak fluttering behind her. Only two guards followed after her, along with the King who was close to his daughter’s side, but they all seemed to blur in Rumplestiltskin’s vision. His eyes trailed down and then up her form as she came down the last two stairs and made her way to him.

The dark, reddish brown leather looked soft but warm, clinging to her shape in a way that left him with no semblance of an appropriate thought, to say nothing of the vest that was laced up her front. He shut his eyes for a moment and then opened them as he felt a presence at his side and a hand on his arm.

“Good morning, Sir Rumplestiltskin.”

Her voice was soft and warm, almost too cheery for the circumstances, but he managed to smile back at her. “Morning, My Lady.”

Rumplestiltskin quickly moved away and around the side of the horse, putting the animal between them as he pretended to check over the straps and buckles again.

“Is everything in order?” she asked, crossing to her own horse. The beast rubbed his nose against her palm and she smiled. “Good morning to you too, Philippe.”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “It appears so. We can leave as soon as you’re ready, my lady.”

Maurice watched both of them with trepidation, his hands all but wringing the fabric of his robe. “You don’t have to do this, my dear. You can stay. We can protect you here just as well.”

“Papa,” Belle said, stepping around her horse and over to her father. “You know that’s not true,” she said, taking hold of his hands. “The Dark One was already here once. In the town, and maybe even in the castle. In _my room_.”

“I know, dearest, but -” Maurice sighed and squeezed her fingers. “Forgive an old man who loves his daughter and hates to see her go, hmm?”

Tears sprang to Belle’s eyes and immediately her arms went around her father’s neck, pulling him close as she hadn’t done in some time. “Of course, Papa. But I’ll be fine, you’ll see. And I’ll come back.”

They pulled apart and Maurice looked to Rumplestiltskin. “You will take good care of her, won’t you?”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, feeling for the first time this was more than a decree from his King, but a request from a father who was truly fearful for his child. He nodded and then bent at the waist in a low bow. “Of course, Your Grace.” Belle smiled at him, and he gave her a brief nod. “Are you ready, My Lady?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, giving her father a tight smile, her vision blurring a bit as the tears welled up again.

Rumplestiltskin turned his back and made himself busy with tugging the stirrup before he mounted his horse.

Maurice nodded and let go of his daughter, watching pensively from the steps as she lifted her leg and climbed into the saddle effortlessly. He felt a slight swell of pride at how at ease she looked in a saddle, riding having always been a favorite diversion of Collette’s, but at the same time he regretted that he never let her indulge as much as she might have wanted or encouraged her like he knew his wife would have wanted.

Belle circled around towards her father and smiled down at him. “I’ll get a message to you as soon as we arrive,” she promised.

He reached up and squeezed her hand one last time before she nudged her horse and they set off towards the gate at a slow trot. As they waited for the portcullis to lift, she twisted around in her saddle and waved to her father who raised a hand in return.

Rumplestiltskin watched her face expectantly as she stared straight ahead, looking through the opening the wall at the field and forest beyond. Then she looked over at him and gave him a small nod, the corner of her mouth curving just slightly.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, but confidently, and together they rode through the gate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first few miles, as Avonlea shrank slowly behind them, were passed quietly with nothing but the rhythmic clop and thump of the horses’ hooves.

Eventually, Belle broke the silence asking about the route they would take and whether might pass by this city or that, but the Duke had suggested something less direct, and the King agreed it would be safer. It would mean an extra two days of travel, but it would be safer if they avoided people as much as possible. She seemed a bit disappointed by that until Rumplestiltskin produced the small folded map indicating their path. After that she filled in most of the time by telling him about the places she’d visited, the halls and manors she’d stayed at, and their goings on. It was mostly gossip and fodder for the royal court, but inevitably the most sensational stories turned out to be true. 

There was also a rather endearing anecdote about a time she and Ruby hid from Belle’s governess and then snuck out to play with the practice swords in the training yard of the barracks. They successfully snuck back inside and were waiting when the governess returned to Belle’s rooms, after searching almost the entirety of the inside of the castle. Of course, the girls appeared to be completely innocent, but the truth was discovered later when the bruises began to appear on both of them.

Rumplestiltskin tipped his head back and laughed. “You and your friend beat on each other with practice sticks?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “How else were we supposed to learn to fight? No one would teach us, so we tried to teach ourselves.” She winced as if recalling more than the just events, but the pain of her endeavor as well. “We weren’t very good at it though.”

He shook his head. “So, a princess is friends with her maid? I suppose that’s not uncommon?”

“Ruby is my dearest, oldest friend,” she said with a shrug. “Status has never mattered much to me, only whether people are good and honest, or not.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled at her and she smiled back, somewhat shyly, as they continued on.

The sun was just at the top of the trees when Rumplestiltskin finally suggested they stop for the night.

They dismounted and walked their horses into the trees until they found a small clearing wide enough to set a fire with a stream a short walk away. Belle turned around and around in the space as Rumplestiltskin tied off the horses leads to a tree limb. The area was dotted with small patches of very soft, fine bladed grass, the kind that only grew in shade and a deep, dark green. In between the patches were leaves and moss, drying and brown now as the seasons had shifted to fall.

There was a very large, wide tree to one side, as big around as the dining table in her father’s room. She walked up to it and tipped her head back, staring up into the canopy of its branches.

Rumplestiltskin walked up beside her and looked up as well. “What are we looking for?”

Belle’s head dropped and she looked at him. “What? Oh!” She swatted at his arm, seeing his light teasing for what it was and shaking her head. “I was just looking. I haven’t been in the old forest before.”

He looked at her strangely as he hefted her saddle bags over his shoulder. “I thought you’d traveled all over the kingdom?”

She shrugged, her hands fussing with the edges of her cloak. “I have, but it was always from a carriage on the road. And we always stayed at the estates of my father’s lords.”

“Not even at an inn?” His head tilted as he tried to imagine such a luxury as never having to sleep on the muddy ground or in a lumpy straw bed. He’d only known such a thing for the last two weeks. Some of it still seemed like a dream.

Belle shook her head again and followed Rumplestiltskin around to the widest, flattest part of the tree. He set her bags on the ground and eyed the leaf covered ground, stomping it with his boot.

“We can set up a shelter here,” he said, rubbing a gloved hand over the bark. “We’ll need a fire too.”

She rubbed her arms absently. The air that had warmed in the midday sun was now quite chilly and a touch damp. “Should I, um, get some firewood?”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyebrows lifted slightly, even as he tried to reign in his surprise. “I can get it, Your Grace. You should, um, rest.”

She frowned at him and shook her head. “Nonsense. There are two of us on this journey. I’m quite capable, thank you.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a polite nod and turned his attention back to their packs and his efforts to build a shelter.

Belle started looking around the clearing, nibbling on her bottom lip as she eyed the ground for suitable wood. The truth was she wasn’t sure what she should be looking for. She only occasionally added firewood to the hearths in her rooms, and that was from a large basket set beside it with cut logs of equal length, the bark shorn off so they were smooth and unlikely to cut anyone or splinter. She bent and picked up a few thin sticks, bundling them together in her left hand. Here, in the actual wild that she had dreamed of being in for so long, she felt lost and unsure.

Rumplestiltskin watched her for a few minutes as he uncoiled one of the lengths of rope. He knew she was relatively clueless about what surviving in the forest entailed, but her eagerness was so endearing, and it made him feel a little more excited rather than apprehensive. Though he was certainly that too.

“Those will be good to get the fire started,” he said,making a point of not looking up from what he was doing, lashing two long tree limbs together. “Look for wood that’s dry. It rained last night, and the ground is still damp. We’ll have to find dead branches and cut them with the hatchet or pull them down.”

She nodded and went back to the horses, sliding the small axe out of the leather loop it was in on the saddle. Her lips twitched a bit as she tried not to smile. He was probably just indulging her, but she wanted to be useful, she wanted to learn. If this was to be her only chance for a real adventure she would make the most of it.

Belle walked around the perimeter of the clearing, looking for low hanging, dead branches and dried limbs on the ground. Rumplestiltskin finished the structure of their shelter and showed her how to brace her hand on the limb and swing the hatchet. She was too short in her flat boots to reach many of the ones they cut, but while he hacked away, wood chips flying and falling to the ground around him, she pulled the branches to the circle of earth they had cleared out for the fire.

Rumplestiltskin started the fire easily with the fresh flint stone in his pack, and soon the chill in the air had been driven off, at least within the small confines of their shelter. It was low enough they had to sit or crouch to fit under it, but it was wide enough for the two of them to be side by side sitting or sleeping, though he was trying not to think about that just yet. They had draped the thick wool horse blankets over the top in case it rained during the night, but the whole thing had quite a cozy feeling.

Their meal was small and cold, unleavened bread, cheese, and cured meats. The cooks promised the flat bread would keep better than the thick, sweet loaves Belle preferred. She ate greedily in spite of it, tired from the activity of setting up their small camp.

“I’m sorry it’s not more,” she said, tearing off another strip of the bread, turning it in her fingers before she folded it into her mouth. She sighed and leaned back against the tree, trying to think of anything but what she would rather be eating.

He gave her a funny look and shook his head. Even though they had left the comfort of the castle, he still felt as if he’d never eaten better. The rations that soldiers were usually afforded were mostly hardtack or stale bread, porridge if they were lucky. Sometimes they caught game, if they had time to set traps, but most of the time they had to keep moving and marching.

After they ate, Rumplestiltskin gathered some more wood, laying it next to their shelter so it would be easy to reach during the night. Belle was sitting against the tree, her legs curled beneath her, staring into the fire. Every so often a breeze would rustle the trees and blow the dried leaves along the ground. Looking up she could see a small section of the night sky through the canopy of the forest. Clouds were moving slowly across, but as they passed she could see the bright pinpoint stars and the sliver of moon. 

It was darker out here away from the lights of the castle and the town where there were always torches and hearths alight. She never realized how much civilization could drown out nature. Her stomach was still a jumble of nerves that she knew wouldn’t settle until she returned home to her father and her people and her books. But there was an excitement too, a rush of happiness that came from feeling like she was finally seeing the real world, the world that she had only ever looked at from windows in the castle or in her carriage.

Belle watched Rumplestiltskin hack a particularly large branch in half with the little hatchet before he dropped the two halves over the fire, snapping and causing sparks to fly up as smoke swirled up towards the trees. He smiled at her and then sat back down, the stiffness settling into his limbs from the ride and the activity of setting up camp.

“Did being a soldier teach you how to make a proper camp?” Belle asked after a long moment.

He shook his head and stretched his legs out in front of him. “No, I knew that from before.”

She swallowed and licked her lips. “From when you lived in the Frontlands?”

She wanted to know more about him, but she was afraid to push too much. She knew there were things in his past he didn’t want to talk about, and she a little of what that felt like.

“Yes,” he admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on the fire. Flames were sort of mesmerizing in the way they danced and swirled, rising and falling and changing colors. He sighed. “My father taught me.”

One of the few useful things, he thought.

Belle let out a small _oh_ and went quiet, toying with the lacing of her vest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” she added a few minutes later.

He finally looked at her and gave her a wan smile. “It’s no matter.”

“It’s just - “ she started. “If I’m not going to meet anyone else, know anyone else, on this journey, then -” She shifted and turned to look at him, leaning her shoulder against the tree. “Can’t I know you? A little?”

His lips curled a little and then he nodded. “Aye, I suppose.”

She bit her lip and looked away for a moment, the softness of his voice and the way his accent thickened was entirely too pleasing to her ears. After one of their walks in the garden she’d entertained the idle thought of listening to him read one of her books, but quickly dismissed it.

“You don’t like to talk about where you’re from,” she said. “Was it so bad?”

“Not all the time.” Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “We were always poor, mind, and the village was so small it had no name that any of us ever knew. I doubt it would ever rate so much as a drop of ink on a map.” He pulled out the map from inside his leather doublet and unfolded it. 

Her eyes trailed over the lines that formed the borders between Estoria and Avonlea and Rhardollan where King George ruled. Most of them followed natural formations, rivers and mountains, save of for a stretch of the northern border of Avonlea where George’s soldiers had crossed over to harass the small villages and keeps. That part lay in a wide valley between mountain ranges. Her father had taken her there once, but all she could remember was a large waterfall cascading down into a canyon.

He sighed and the sound brought her back to the present. “It was overrun by ogres, but it was somewhere around here.” He pointed to a spot on the map near the Deep Wood, almost to the border with Arendelle.

“So far north?” She stared at the spot on the parchment, imagining harsh winters and a dark, gloomy sky. Then she grinned. "The winters here must seem mild to you."

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “Oh, I wouldn't say that. I'm not all that fond of the cold even if I've lived in it most of my life."

“I’ve never been that far north,” she said. “I’ve been as far south as King Leopold’s castle, and I’ve been to the western seas, but I haven’t been beyond the mountains on the northern border.”

“There’s a waterfall here,” he said, pointing to the gap in the mountains.

She smiled. “I know, I was there once when I was a little girl. When were you there?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “I, um, I’ve never been. My Aunt told me about it.”

Bell nodded and chewed her lip. She wanted to ask, but something made her stay quiet and shift back to face the fire.

Rumplestiltskin shook out one of the blankets and laid it over Belle’s lap, smiling as she took hold of the edge and pulled it up to her chest. “I’ll take the first watch,” he offered, and she nodded, settling against his side.

Her head rested on his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. For a few moments he couldn't managed, too stunned by how close she was and the feel of her body at every point where it touched his.

"I'm cold," she said, as if that was explanation enough. "Is this - alright?"

Rumplestiltskin could feel her shiver, and managed a nod and then a few words, though to his ears he sounded strained and nearly hoarse. "Aye, it's - it's fine."

Hours later, Rumplestiltskin set two more logs across the fire, carefully, so they didn’t pop or spark too much and wake his traveling companion. He shifted against the rough bark, the edges digging into his back, and tried rolling his shoulders. A night sleeping on the ground after several nights in a bed with a down stuffed mattress was going to mean a rude awakening come morning. Probably for both of them. He looked over at Belle curled up in her cloak on her side, facing the fire, the light illuminating her face and glowing in her hair, and sighed.

It actually felt good to be on the road again, away from the bustle of the city. He’d never liked crowded places, though the security and protection of the castle was a welcome comfort. It would be nice to see somewhere he’d never been, not that he’d been all that many places, and he hoped that maybe Princess Belle might want him to stay longer than it took to deliver her to Gaston’s family. That thought left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, but he didn’t want to think on it too much. If she was safe, that was what mattered.

Rumplestiltskin tried to move his shoulders again, annoyed by the stiffness and cold that was settling in. Beside him, Belle shifted, her face seeming to tuck itself into the space between his jaw and his shoulder, her warm breath whispering against his neck, her cheek soft and rosy from the chilly air. He swallowed and sighed once more, silently wishing she’d both move and stay.

It was going to be a long night.


	10. Suspicions and Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second day on the road, Rumple and Belle encounter some strange men, have a spat, and spend a mildly awkward night at an inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm the worst at updating. Just know this about me first and foremost. I'm sorry. I love you all for hanging with me. The next chapter is almost done though. :) And I made a banner! I'm putting it here and in the first chapter.

Rumplestiltskin awoke slowly. 

First, he felt the damp chill that had settled over his body, then the telltale stiffness of a night spent on the ground. The arm under his head was numb and cold, and something was tickling his nose. With a groan he cracked opened his eyes and saw Belle, smiling, and with a fuzzy glow surrounding her. She looked like a fairy or some kind of magical queen. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

“Good morning,” she said, laughing softly. Then her warm hand touched his cheek, her knuckles brushing over his skin, and he blinked as his mind caught up with reality.

They’d left Avonlea. 

They’d camped in a clearing near the edge of the old forest.

She’d fallen asleep on him.

He could remember the feel of her pressed against his side and the whisper of her breath on his neck. How long had it been since he’d had that kind of closeness with another person? Not just the physical, but the warmth of her, the openness with which she offered her friendship. His mind flashed back to the kiss they shared, how she practically begged him for it. It had been even longer since he’d known such a thing. He felt his face flush as Princess Belle smiled down at him. 

“You said to wake you at first light, and it’s only just,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the newly rising sun.

That explained the glow then, he thought, as she straightened and stepped back.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Thanks.”

With a grunt, he pushed himself to a sitting position and rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to shake off the slight ache. He looked around for a moment, feeling a bit foggy, and then crawled out from under the shelter to stand upright, his back and legs creaking and popping in protest. The fire was already out, snuffed with water from the stream and then covered with dirt. The blankets had been taken down and rolled, somewhat neatly, to fit behind their saddles.

"We'd better get moving," he said, starting to fold the blanket he'd slept under.

Belle nodded. "There's bread if you're hungry. I thought we'd eat on the road."

He nodded back and smiled. "That's best."

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

"Aye, I'm fine. Nothing I'm not used to, My Lady." He finished with the blanket and moved to his horse, checking over the straps and rebuckling one of the bags to be sure it was tight. "And how did you fare your first night of camping in the wilderness?"

There was a teasing tone to his voice that made her smile. "I am just fine, thank you."

A few minutes later they were back on the road, following the edge of the forest in case they needed cover, and nibbling on more flat bread. The day was gray and heavy, the low clouds threatening rain. It would be a rough night sleeping in the woods.

Belle watched Rumplestiltskin as he chewed a piece of flat bread. He seemed no worse for wear, but he was sitting rather stiffly. She rolled her neck to one side and then the other, feeling like if she could just move the right way the knot would loosen.

Her movements didn't go unnoticed, and Rumplestiltskin was almost grateful that she seemed to feel as sore as he did.

"If we make good time we can be near Guerlain by sundown.” He glanced at Belle and saw her shifting awkwardly in her saddle. "There should be a small village or two nearby. We could perhaps pass the night at an inn?"

Belle bit her lip, refusing to appear too pleased at the thought of an actual room and bed. “If you think it's safe,” she replied.

"I don't see why not. They aren't likely to know who you are on sight. We'll arrive late and leave early, that should mean less prying eyes."

She nodded, fighting a smile. "Then I think we should."

Rumplestiltskin smiled to himself and nudged his horse, picking up the pace a bit. "As My Lady commands,” he muttered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Midday, after they had stopped briefly to for a small meal of cheese, cured meat, and to water the horses, they came upon two men walking on the side of the road.

Rumplestiltskin eyed them warily and slowed his horse, reaching out a hand towards Belle. Before he could caution her, she called out to the men.

“Good day, sirs!” she said cheerily, waving to the men.

The men stopped and watched Rumplestiltskin and Belle approach, then fell into step beside them.

“My Lady,” one of them said, giving a sneering sort of smile and a slight inclination of his head.

The Princess nodded in return and the men exchanged a look with each other. Rumplestiltskin let his horse fall back behind Belle as he looked them over, noting one was quite tall and thin, his skin paler than usual, light sandy brown hair, and his eyes a light gray blue. The man could be from the far north, but his companion was quite short and had a far ruddier complexion with very dark hair. They were a strange pair and the way the short one kept looking into the woods made Rumplestiltskin nervous.

The men commented on the fine horses they were riding, the cut of their clothing. The tall one kept leering at Princess Belle in a way that had Rumplestiltskin’s hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. He knew, the men knew; they were no simple travelers. It was obvious that Belle was well educated as soon as she started speaking, and even more so that she was a kind hearted, possibly naive soul they could take advantage of. He’d seen men look at women like that too many times, and knew what usually came next. It wasn’t desire that drove men to attack a woman or take her against her will, it was power and evil.

The Princess lied easily about the reason for their travel, something that surprised him a bit. It was a reasonably believable but vague story about visiting her elderly aunt, taken ill with a terrible fever, but the look the two men exchanged told him they probably didn’t believe her. He kneed his horse and caught up to Belle, leaning over to speak quietly as the men went on about something between the two of them, some slightly vulgar story they’d heard in a tavern.

“My Lady,” he nearly whispered. “Please be careful. We don’t know these men or their motivations.”

She frowned at him. “Thank you, _Sir_ , but they are just traveling the same as we are. There’s no harm in being nice.”

He sighed, knowing the way she stressed his title meant she was all but commanding him.

Belle continued making idle chat with the tall one, politely smiling and nodding as the four of them made their way down the road. They came to a spot where the road forked, one path slowly bending south, the other continuing on to the west. There one of the streams that wound through the forest widened into more of a small river, where a narrow bridge spanned the rippling waters.

“I believe this is where we part, gentlemen,” Rumplestiltskin said, pulling up and stopping his horse next to the Princess. Catching her attention he pointed towards the bridge and they dismounted their horses. It was only once he had his feet on the ground that he took in just how tall the one man was.

“What a shame,” the man said, smiling in a flat, almost emotionless way that didn’t reach his eyes. “And to where are you headed, My Lady?”

“South,” she said quickly. “To, um,” she trailed off and looked to Rumplestiltskin, realizing that she almost gave away their immediate destination. “South.”

She folded her arms, the lead of her horse held tight in her hand as she took a step back towards Rumplestiltskin. He moved forward at the same time, moving slightly in front of her to put himself in the way of any confrontation.

“And where might you two be heading?” he asked, forcing a tight smile and looking from one man to the other. The short one eyed him and let his cloak fall back slightly to reveal a short sword at his hip. 

Rumplestiltskin’s jaw tensed. “North?” he spat.

“Oh, I dunno,” the short one finally spoke. His voice was hard and gravelly, and Rumplestiltskin noticed that the man only had a handful of his teeth left. “Though maybe we’d head south too, winter comin’ and all.”

“Oh, that’s -” Belle started to say, but Sir Rumplestiltskin moved fully in front of her and stepped towards the two men.

“I don’t think that’d be a very good idea.” He pushed his cloak back, and set his hand on the pommel of his sword.

The tall, pale man moved forward, his shadow falling over Rumplestiltskin and almost completely shading him. “You don’t? Well, I’m not sure that you have any say in that. Why don’t we ask the lady?”

When he fixed Belle with a hard stare, she swallowed and shifted, wishing she had left the dagger in her belt instead of in her saddle bag

“You will do no such thing,” Rumplestiltskin snapped.

The short man laughed until he coughed as his partner sneered. “Who’s going to stop us? _You_?”

Belle watched as Rumplestiltskin drew his sword and came forward with quick steps, catching them by surprise and causing them to stumble backwards. The short one’s boot heel snagged on his cloak and he fell.

“Now, hold on, mate,” he pleaded, holding out a hand as he looked up at Rumplestiltskin.

Belle reached out for Rumplestiltskin in an attempt to keep him back, only to have him continue towards the men and shrug her off.

“No!” Rumplestiltskin commanded.

Belle startled and the man immediately snapped his mouth shut, scrambling on his back in the dirt. The other man reached for his sword, but Rumplestiltskin saw his movement and lunged at him, stopping with the tip of his weapon an inch from the man’s throat. “Who are you working for?” he demanded. “King George?”

“ _What_?” The man shook his head and swallowed, glanced from the pointed end of the sword to Rumplestiltskin’s face and back again. “Are you mad? We’re just -”

Rumplestiltskin sneered, his lips pulling back to show his slightly crooked teeth. “Shut your lying mouth!”

Behind him Belle gasped and clutched at the lead of her horse. She’d seen Sir Rumplestiltskin defend her before when they faced the Dark One in the marketplace, but he was scared and defensive, just as she was. Now he was like a completely different person, angry and cold. It frightened her almost as much as the prospect of what these men might do if he weren’t here.

The short one managed to get to his feet and pulled out his dagger, holding it out in front of him. Rumplestiltskin glanced at him but didn’t move. The man’s stance and the way he held the weapon spoke of someone with little skill. He was probably used to the idea of it being enough or drawing it for show, counting on intimidation to get what he wanted.

“What are you going to do?” The tall man sneered. “You can’t kill us; we haven’t done anything to you! They’d have your head for it.”

Belle frowned. She didn’t want to think Rumplestiltskin would go that far.

“He is a Knight of the realm,” she blurted out. Rumplestiltskin looked back at her quickly with a wide eyed look. She tensed when she saw how cold and dark his eyes were. She licked her lips nervously. “H-he can do as he pleases with the likes of you.”

The short one smiled his yellowed, jagged toothed smile. “A Knight of the realms, eh? And what sort of _Lady_ does that make you, I wonder?”

“Enough,” Rumplestiltskin growled. His nostrils flared and his lips curled in a cruel sneer. “We’re not answering any of your questions. Where we go and what we do is none of your concern.”

He pressed forward, bringing his sword just to the edge of the man’s neck. The sword had been one of the gifts King Maurice had bestowed on him. It was very well made and new, the edge as fresh and sharp as it would ever be. He need not do more than twist his wrist to end the man’s life.

Rumplestiltskin clenched his jaw. “You will go back down that road, the way you came, and say nothing of us to anyone. Do you understand?”

Despite the blade at his throat, the man fixed him with a hard stare and quirked an eyebrow. Rumplestiltskin turned the sword and pressed the blade flat against the man’s skin, letting him feel the cool steel. He fought to keep his hand from shaking. He had to be brave for the Princess.

“Do you understand?” he repeated, slower.

The man’s eyes widened and he barely nodded, which was just enough to knick his jaw on the edge of the blade. He hissed as Rumplestiltskin pulled the weapon away, and brought his hand up to his face. Looking down at the bright red blood on his fingertips, then to Rumplestiltskin, and finally to Belle. He nodded again, more firmly. 

“Aye, we understand. Don’t we, Lag?” He looked to his shorter companion and the other man looked around at everyone before he too nodded.

Rumplestiltskin stood ready to fight until the men started back down the road in the direction they had just come. Once they were over the little hill and out of sight, he relaxed, letting out an exhale of relief, and sheathed his blade. When he turned, Belle was all but cowering against her horse, Phillippe.

“Are you okay, My Lady?” he asked, moving to her side.

She moved away immediately, but nodded. “I’m fine.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded too, and they spent a few minutes letting their horses drink from the stream and refilling their wineskins. Belle was quiet and kept a few feet of space between them, though he caught her looking at him a couple of times. Her face was concerned but also a bit tentative, and she kept her eyes down.

As they got back on their horses and made their way on the southern road, she remained reticent. Rumplestiltskin looked back every now and then, and watched the forest for movement, to make sure the men weren’t following them. After an hour or so he felt fairly comfortable that they weren’t. Perhaps the men had merely meant to rob them or steal their horses? Either way he was glad to be rid of them. They’d need to be more careful the rest of their journey, and maybe stick to the less traveled paths through the forest.

He watched Bell too, saw how tightly she held her reins, the stiffness in her shoulders. She was trying to be confident but he knew she must have been quite scared.

“You don’t have to be afraid, My Lady,” he said finally. She gave him the strangest look and he tried to smile. “The men are gone and I’m quite certain they aren’t following us.”

She scoffed and shook her head, feeling more anger now at his actions than fear that they would be followed and accosted. “I should say not,” she replied, giving him only the barest of glances. “And it’s not them I’m afraid of, it’s _you_.”

He gaped at her in surprise, but she shot him a glare and nudged her horse to go a little faster, staying in front of him the rest of the way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They chose an inn just outside of the town of Guerlain.

It was small, well kept, and set near a mill, but still dark and quiet compare to what they’d probably find in town. There would be no loud drunks to disrupt their sleep, and few curious eyes when they left in the morning. Despite its more remote location, the inn was still along the King’s road, and a first stop for many a weary traveler. They had only one room left, which caused some embarrassment on Rumplestiltskin’s part when Princess Belle simply smiled and said that would be fine. The innkeeper nodded, but his wife gave her a look and muttered something about bed sharing never hurting a marriage that had the Princess and the Knight blushing furiously.

They had few belongings, so settling into their room took only minutes, and then Rumplestiltskin left to make sure the horses were secure in what passed for a stables. Belle was left alone with her thoughts, which had jumbled somewhat since the incident on the road. She wasn’t truly afraid of Rumplestiltskin, not exactly, but seeing such an angry, violent reaction from him clashed with the gentle friend she knew. She busied herself with rummaging through her bag of clothing to find a fresh shirt, stockings, and underthings for tomorrow. At the bottom was one of her old nightgowns and she frowned. She didn’t remember packing it, but assumed it must have been Ruby planning ahead.

Smiling, she laid it over one of the chairs in front of the fire to warm. The innkeeper’s wife was going to have hot water brought up for washing. Even though it would only be from a basin and not her copper tub, the very idea of hot water and soap after two long days on the road sounded like heaven.

Rumplestiltskin returned a few minutes later, telling her that Philippe seemed quite happy and secure for the night. Apparently the innkeeper’s son took care of the beasts and had snuck a couple of carrots out to the stables as a treat. That finally coaxed a small smile out of her, and she nodded her thanks, deciding that she could spare a silver piece for the boy in the morning.

As promised, the innkeeper’s wife delivered the hot water and brought a platter of food for them to share along with a bowl of broth. Belle sat quietly on the end of the bed, peeling off bites of chicken with her fingers. Rumplestiltskin was in a chair by the fire, after another awkward moment of noticing, and then having to remove, her nightgown from the chair. He’d blushed furiously and she’d nearly giggled, but hid it as she folded the gown and set it on the table next to the wash basin.

Setting her plate aside, Belle stood and pressed her hands over the front of her riding leathers. “I’m just going to go wash.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, a bit wide eyed, and moved to set their plates and the food tray by the door.

Belle turned and moved to the basin. She sighed as she pulled closed the thin curtain that hung from the wall to a hook by the bed, and then pulled the pins from her hair, letting the weight of it unwind the braid most of the way. She found herself wishing they could go back to earlier that morning, when the sun was still rising and they were munching flat bread as she told him about the time her new kitten lost a fight with a squirrel and ended up in a rose bush. Her unlaced bodice fell to the floor, and she bent to push the leather leggings down as well, wiggling her toes her in stockings before removing them too. She dipped a cloth in the water, sighing again at how nice the heat felt, and started to wash herself. As soon as she made it to the Duke’s orchard, she was having a real bath, with oils and those little fizzy pellets if they had such things in Estoria.

Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin kept busy checking over his things and making sure that neither of the men had managed to steal anything. He knew he needed to apologize to the Princess in some way or explain what happened on the road, but he didn’t feel the least bit sorry. Whatever those men had been planning, he was happy to have thwarted it and protected her. 

When he turned around to sit in the chair again, he could see Belle behind the curtain. Or at least a shadow of Belle, illuminated by the candle next to the basin and the glow of the fire. He felt the air rush out of him and blinked in slight disbelief. It was logical that she would need to change her clothes, after all she'd been in them for two days, and it was certainly necessary for bathing. But the sight of her, soft curving lines muted by her underclothes and cascade of hair - even in shadow it was overwhelming.

He swallowed hard, and forced his eyes to the floor.

A few minutes later, he heard her sigh, and then the curtain moved. She stepped around it in a cream colored cotton her nightdress that laced up to her throat and fell to just below her knees. Her hair was loose and very curly from being pinned up for so long. He tried to smile at her, but the uncertain look on her face made his fall. Quietly, he watched as she walked to the end of the bed and sat down.

“You frightened me,” she said after a long moment. Her hands, folded and unfolded in her lap, twisting the fabric of her nightgown.

“I'm sorry,” he offered, and she finally looked at him. “For scaring you, but not for protecting you.”

She nodded, her mouth set in a thin line. “I didn't know that - that you could be like that. I won't -” Her voice caught and she touched her fingertips to her lips, looking away from him towards the door.

Rumplestiltskin pushed himself off the chair and was on his knees on the floor, kneeling at her feet in an instant. His hand rested on the bed, anxious to hold hers but unsure if she would welcome it.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, and she shook her head. “My Lady, _please_ , look at me.”

Belle took a breath, sniffling a bit loudly, but turned her head and met his eyes. They were bright, shining, and just as warm and kind as always. She sighed. “You didn’t even _know_ those men.”

He shook his head. “Forgive me, but, neither did _you_ , Your Grace.” She frowned at him and then caught her bottom lip in her teeth, a habit he’d noticed even in the short time at the castle.

“So you think me foolish then?” she asked. She’d thought he must, her father always did. Everyone always told her she’d get herself in trouble someday if she continued to believe the best of people. Perhaps that had nearly happened today.

“ _No_ ,” Rumplestiltskin insisted. He frowned at her and shook his head again. “That’s not - I’m not -” He sighed. “I’m terrible at this.”

She laughed a little at that. “Just say what you mean. I won’t be offended. We’re friends, right?”

He smiled up at her and nodded, turning his hand over when she touched him so she could press her palm against his. “Aye, if you say so, My Lady.” 

Then he laughed lightly when she gave him a look. No matter how many times she might tell him to use her given name, it still made him nervous. She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“I apologize,” he said finally. “For scaring you, and for whatever injuries those two may claim to have.” Belle rolled her eyes at that and he had to suppress another laugh. “But I refuse to apologize for keeping you safe.”

Belle squeezed his hand again and nodded, afraid to try to speak until her emotions settled. How had she thought anything ill of him? He’d only had the best intentions, her protection, which she knew should be paramount to everything else. Still, none of it set well with her.

“I know,” she said after a long moment. “I don’t like the idea of anyone being hurt, not for my sake. But that’s what this whole _bloody_ war is for, isn’t it? For _my_ sake?”

“No, it’s not just that.” He shifted on his knees, the hard floor finally getting to him as the position became too much to bear any longer. He let go of her hand and pushed himself up, and when she patted the spot beside her, he turned to sit, smiling gratefully.

“Your father wants to protect you, yes,” he said, “but I don’t think King George would stop even if you had married his son. Not with the Dark One at his beckon call.”

She shivered and ran a hand through her messy hair. “You’re right, of course you are. It’s just -”

“You don’t want to see anyone hurt,” he finished for her. She looked at him and he shrugged. “I don’t want to hurt anyone either. But I won’t hesitate if it means saving _you_.”

She nodded again and forced a smile. The thought didn’t please her exactly, not Rumplestiltskin harming someone in her name. But knowing that he would do as her father asked, that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe, that _did_ please her a little, rather selfishly. She didn’t want to think about it too much.

“Are we -?” he started to ask, gesturing between the two of them.

She laughed and smiled, nodding. She leaned to the side and bumped her shoulder against his. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said softly. “That’s - good.”

A short while later, Belle was snuggled into the bed, and Rumplestiltskin was stretched out on the floor beside the hearth which had burned down to a low glow. Two blankets, folded and placed on top of each other created a makeshift mattress. He laid back, one arm under his head, and sighed.

Belle rolled over on her side and looked down at him. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

He smiled and nodded. “It’s better than sleeping under a tree. Warmer too.”

Belle smiled and then blew out the candle by the bed, darkening the room. “Good night, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Good night,” he replied.

A moment later he added a very soft, “Belle.”


	11. Dangers and Detours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New dangers present themselves necessitating a quick detour. Belle and Rumple hideaway in a small village, and a new plan is hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go. The chapter that sets up my favorite part of this fic. My babies are so adorable and awkward, but brave too, and I love them. Comments are my crack. If anyone is interested, I have a tag on Tumblr for images that I’m using for locations in this fic, or for inspiration and as part of my world building: http://rowofstars.tumblr.com/tagged/the%20world%20of%20amlc  
> And in case you missed it, there's a banner for this fic now. You can see it at the top of the last chapter, or at the top of Chapter 1.

This time Rumplestiltskin awoke first, and suddenly.

He jerked awake, throwing his arm out to the side and nearly hitting the grate in front of the fire. The heat made him pull back and roll over, blinking in the dim light. Whatever dream he’d been having was faded from memory already, leaving only the vague impression of fear and some sweat on his brow.

He lay there on a blanket on the floor, breathing in and out slowly, as his heart calmed.

“Rumple?”

Belle’s sleepy voice made him smile up at the ceiling before he pushed himself up and sat, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders.

“Good morning,” he replied softly. “Did I wake you?”

She rubbed her eyes and sat up as well, the sheet and a blanket pulled up to her chest. “I don’t know? I heard something.”

He sighed and tilted his head one way and then the other. Another night on a hard surface had done him no favors. He hoped the next place they stopped could provide two beds or at least a pallet for him to sleep on.

“That was probably me,” he admitted. He shifted to his knees and then stood up, his back and both knees cracking and popping. “I was dreaming, I think?”

“Oh.” She looked around, finally focusing on the window where the faint glow of the sun was just visible. “It’s early.”

He nodded. “Yes but it’s best we get going. Less people to see us that way.”

She sighed, sliding from the bed and making her way behind the curtain to change.

Rumplestiltskin had washed before bed but put his same clothes back on, which left him feeling almost dirtier somehow. He had only the one set of clothes and the leather armor gifted to him by the king. He feared it might all be in tatters by the time they completed their journey. Hopefully something could be spared at their destination.

“Ready?” Belle asked as she stepped out from behind the curtain. Her leathers were the same, but she’d changed her shirt from a white to a red in a heavier fabric. Her stockings and underwear were fresh too, thankfully. She wasn't sure she could have gone another day without changing.

Rumplestiltskin gave a quick nod and a short time later, they were packed and at the stables. Belle left two silver pieces next to the oat bucket, hoping the innkeeper’s son would find them before anyone else, and then they set off. She wished they could have stayed for a proper breakfast, but Rumplestiltskin was right. After yesterday’s incident, the less people they encountered, the better.

They’d been riding for a couple of hours, when Rumplestiltskin raised a hand and stopped his horse. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the edge of the woods. The trees were denser here, younger and thinner, packed tighter together than in the old forest and darker. It was easy to hide in the shadows even if you didn’t know what you were doing.

Belle looked around, confused. “What is it?”

He shushed her, his eyes still darting here and there. “I thought saw something,” he said quietly.

Her eyes went wide and she gripped her reins tighter, ready to run if needed. He looked at her, his expression neutral but his jaw tight. “Where?” she mouthed.

He kneed his horse back to a slow trot and she did the same. After a few feet, he inclined his head to his left and pointed, keeping his hand low over the saddle so only Belle could see. She looked carefully, not turning her head all the way. Had the same men from yesterday come back? Or were they merely scouts sent to find her and which direction she’d be traveling, while others lay in wait for them up ahead? 

For a minute or two she couldn’t see anything, but then -

A flash, a flicker like a candle in the darkness between the trees. Her breath caught as she realized it was the sun reflecting off something, something metallic maybe like a sword or dagger, or perhaps a spy glass? There was the snap of a tree branch, distant, and almost unheard over the clomping of their horses and the wind. She glanced at Rumplestiltskin, meeting his eyes briefly, and sharing a look of panic. Her heart pounded hard in her chest but she tried not to show it, not to give any indication she was aware of anyone’s presence. His eyebrows lifted and she returned his look with a small nod.

A beat later their horses sprang forward, bolting into a full gallop with only a sharp kick to their flanks. Belle cried out, unused to such quick movement, but she bent low over Philippe’s neck and held on tight as the rapid thump of his hooves vibrated through her body.

Beside her, Rumplestiltskin was holding on tight as well, trying to look back to see who might be following them. A figure stepped out of the trees, shrugged off a cloak, and stood in the middle of the road. A second later something whizzed past his head. He ducked low, hoping that if it was an arrow there would be out of range before another one could be loosed.

Another whooshing sound was heard and Belle screamed. Something had hit her leg, but she didn’t dare stop to look. Green blurred around her interspersed by flashes of the sun. Rumplestiltskin shouted at her, a whistling sound streaked past her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and held tight to Philippe, trusting him to follow Rumplestiltskin’s horse and get them to safety.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, their horses tired and they were forced to slow to a walk, though they didn’t dare stop moving. Rumplestiltskin’s heart refused to calm though, and he kept looking around and over his shoulder as he followed the narrow path through the woods. Whoever had been following them must not have had a ride, or if they did, they were far quieter about it than he and Belle.

“Are you alright?” Belle asked him between gasping breaths.

He looked down at himself and the horse, then back over his shoulder again, and nodded. “You?”

She nodded but saw his eyes go wide. She looked down at her leg and saw a slash across the top of her boot, just under her knee. The leather had been cut clean, presumably by an arrow head, but neither she nor Philippe had been hit.

“That was close,” she said, shrugging and forcing a tight smile.

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “Too close.”

After another quarter mile or so, the horses gave up, and they were forced to dismount. A few yards into the woods was a pond of sorts, and despite the layer of algae on top, the horses drank greedily.

“We’ll need to give them at least an hour’s rest,” Rumplestiltskin said, scowling again.

“Should we camp here?” Belle asked, moving to undo one of her saddle backs.

“No,” Rumplestiltskin replied sharply. “There’s plenty of daylight left, it’s barely mid-day.” He paused and looked up at the sun, then around the small clearing. “We have to keep moving.”

Belle tightened the buckles on her bag again and bent to examine her damaged boot. It hadn’t cut through it entirely, just grazed the wide cuff at the top. “Who do you think it was?” she asked, watching Rumplestiltskin pace nervously behind the horses.

He shook his head. “Who knows? One of King George’s men maybe? A bandit? Does it even _matter_?”

She recoiled a bit when he snapped at her, and he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Belle shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”

“You could have been killed, you know,” he said, staring straight ahead towards the pond. “You could have -”

She swallowed. “So could you.” Rumplestiltskin turned and looked at her, his face was a mix of confusion and surprise. She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “We both need to get there in one piece.”

He nodded and finally sat down, stretching out his legs in the patchy grass. Beside him, Belle did the same, and they sat, watching the horses and looking around nervously for a few quiet minutes. She wondered if they’d make it all the way to the orchard, or if they’d be forced to turn back. She leaned back on her elbows and felt something cool against the skin of her chest. Reaching up, she slipped her fingers under the neck of her shirt and felt the medallion Ruby had given her. 

“We should get moving again,” Rumplestiltskin muttered as he pushed to stand again. “It will be another two days to the border, and two more to the Duke’s castle. If we use the main roads.”

“That’s probably not a good idea anymore,” she said, and then sighed.

He held out a hand to pull her up, smiling a little, but then his expression turned very serious. “My Lady, I think - we should probably head back to the castle.”

Belle gaped at him. “What? Why?”

“I should think that’d be obvious by now,” he replied, shaking his head. “Someone just tried to kill you!”

“Us!” she snapped. “And we’re fine. We escaped.”

He scoffed and turned around, his head falling back a bit as he looked up at the sky. A moment later he turned back to face her. “That just means they weren’t as good at their job as they should have been, or we were very lucky.”

She sighed. She knew he was right. Whether the men from yesterday and this attack today were connected didn’t really matter. What mattered is that they weren’t safe and it was still three days to the Duke’s estate, plus a few days more over the mountains to the valley.

“Going back would be _just_ as dangerous,” she pointed out. “They know what direction we _went_ , but if we turn back they will definitely know where we are headed.”

Rumplestiltskin huffed and ran his hand through his hair. She was right, of course she was, she was wise beyond the years of most of the people around her, probably including her own father.

“Then I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. He shut his eyes for a second, letting out a slow breath as he ran a hand over his face. When he opened them, she was standing closer and looking up at him, her brows knitted and her lips curved into a half frown. 

“Belle,” he said softly. “I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

She took his hand and squeezed his fingers. “We’ll keep each other safe,” she said, shrugging. Then she pulled out a folded square of parchment from the pocket of her vest and smiled. “And I have an idea.”

His eyebrows lifted for a moment and then he frowned. “What’s that?” he asked as she unfolded the paper and smoothed it over her thigh, revealing a partial map.

“Can you get us here?” she asked pointing to a dot near the coast.

Rumplestiltskin’s frown deepened as he took the paper from her and pulled out his map from inside his doublet. It was only a partial map, with markings that had been drawn up by one of the Duke’s men. He move to his horse and laid it against his saddle, smoothing over the creases. Taking the paper Belle had, he laid it over his map, lining up the border between Avonlea and Estoria at the paper’s edge. The place the Princess had indicated was perhaps two days ride if they cut through the woods.

“I think I can, yes,” he replied, finally. “But where is it? What is it?”

“I have a friend there,” Belle said, guiding Philippe away from the pond and looping the reins back over his head. She breathed slowly and felt more confident than she had since they left. This was the right thing to do, the best way to keep both of them safe. 

“If we want to be safe,” she said. “That’s where we need to go. It’s a small village. We can hide out for as long as we need to, and get word to my father about what’s happened.”

She swung her leg over Philippe and settled in the saddle as Rumplestiltskin continued to look at her in amazement and confusion. “Are you coming, Sir Rumplestiltskin?”

She smirked down at him and he shook his head again, moving to mount his own horse. He wasn’t sure about this plan, or why some village on the coast would be safe, but he trusted the Princess. They would survive together, gods willing.

Smiling, despite their situation, he turned his horse and gestured towards the winding forest path. “After you, My Lady.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle closed her book and sighed.

She set it on the little table to her left, and shifted in her chair until she could look out the small window. The sun was still high, but it was almost time for tea and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t back yet. She huffed, her warm breath fogging the window for a moment, before she got up from her chair and opened the door. 

The short, narrow hallway was empty, as she expected, but given all that had happened in the last few days, both she and Rumplestiltskin were still a bit paranoid. She left the room and headed down the back stairs to the kitchen, stepping lightly and softly until she could peek over the lower railing 

“He’s not back yet, Princess,” came a firm, slightly gravelly woman’s voice. “Stop lurking on the stairs and come help me with this laundry.”

Belle smiled slightly and made her way down the last few steps. At the far back of the kitchen, near the large metal laundry sink, was the Widow Lucas, known to most in town simply as Granny. She looked over her shoulder at Belle, half smiling and elbow deep in soapy water.

“He should be back by now,” Belle said, moving to stand by Granny. “He’s never been gone this long before.”

Granny sighed and leaned heavily on the edge of the basin. “It’s been three hours, girl. He’s a knight, he can handle himself.”

“I know,” Belle said, starting to sort the linens in the large basket on the floor. “I’m just worried. We haven’t had any word from my father or the Duke.”

Granny scowled into the sink and pulled up a section of a bedsheet before plunging it back into the hot water. She scrubbed it against the washboard a few times, wrung it out, and dumped it in the rinse tub. 

The silence made Belle unsettled, but the Widow did that sometimes, just stopped talking and let the quiet linger. She focused on sorting the linens, and then started to rinse the soap from the towels that had been washed. Granny didn’t stand on station or titles, which was fine by Belle, and in the few days they’d been there she’d learned more about keeping a household, and running an inn than she ever had living in her father’s castle. It made her realized just how removed from daily life she’d been, how separated from her people. Despite all the times she walked the market square, shopped in their shops, and chatted with them, she was not one of them.

“You can ride out and look for him if you want,” the old woman said. “Just as soon as you finish with those towels.”

She gestured to a second basin that was filled with clean water for rinsing, and Belle sighed, pushing up her sleeves before she stuck her hand in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The tiny village of Ormia lived along the northwestern coast of Avonlea.

It was founded as a fishing village and outpost almost a hundred years ago, set at the end of a small inlet. Unfortunately, the fishing was far more productive many miles south where much larger towns sprung up in the decades following. Those who settled in Ormia were stubborn though, and preferred being tucked away from the world, so much so that few knew their kingdom was about to go to war.

Belle dressed in her riding leathers and rode out on Philippe, following the narrow road out of town and up a steep hill, until it bent back west towards the coastline.

She stopped and took a breath, looking into the forest, her eyes narrowing. Her horse whinnied and shook his head, stopping one foot, seemingly anxious to get going. She flexed her hand around the reins and winced. Her fingertips still felt raw after rinsing and wringing the water out of the towels. After another moment, she eased her horse onto the path that cut through the woods, her eyes darting left and right. 

It was too easy to remember what had happened only a fortnight ago.

She wound her way through the woods, slowly, not letting Philippe do more than walk, just in case he needed the energy to run. The day was reasonably warm and sunny, but every day she could feel a chill sinking in and the change in the way the air smelled that signaled winter’s approach. Once the snows started, traveling would be rough, especially if they were heading back to the castle. It would be a little easier if they could head south, but part of her was desperate to run home and hide. She hated looking over her shoulder, waking every couple of hours during the night to stare at the shadows.

The path through the trees curved and wound gently, taking an almost scenic route. The trees loomed over her, red peeling bark with thinner trunks than the old forest they had traveled through before, yet it felt just as old. It was dark but not in a way that frightened her, more comforting and cozy feeling as she went on, the crunch of red and brown leaves and birds mingling into something that soothed. She stopped looking around so much and only occasionally threw a glance over her shoulder. She reminded herself they hadn’t seen anyone but the inhabitants of the village since they arrived, nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary.

The trail narrowed just before a small stone bridge that covered a bubbling brook, twisting its way to the coast. It seemed strange to have such a thing on an otherwise dirt path, especially over water that was hardly a barrier. Philippe could have easily stepped across the whole thing in one stride, but it was rather picturesque and ancient looking, and Belle smiled. 

Subtly, the elevation increased, until she came out the other side having traveled up the entire hill to almost the highest point. It was imperceptible on horseback, but the first time they had walked it, her legs had hurt for two days. That morning had been very gray and misty, and the way the fog hung just below the edge of the cliff, giving the impression one could just step off and stand on a cloud, was as beautiful as it was eerie. The view had been pretty spectacular, reminding her of how much she’d missed the sound of the ocean as they traveled.

The old guard tower was just around the next bend, where the forest ended at the short grasses of the open field started. The tower had been built back when the town was founded and sat on the highest cliff north of the village, overlooking the sea. From the top of the tower one could see out to the opening of the inlet. Militarily, if there had ever been a navy battle on this side of the kingdom, it might have been a strategic advantage, but instead it was abandoned and eventually fell into disrepair.

It was the one landmark that would be easy for any of the King’s men to find, yet remained private. They had sent two letters so far by bird, both Granny had raised and kept in case she ever needed to contact the King. The birds had not returned, so they could only presume that they had reached the castle.

As Belle came out of the forest, she saw the tower sitting about fifty yards away. Between her and the tower was a man on horseback she recognized immediately. She waved and nudge Philippe forward.

“Rumplestiltskin!” she called out as Philippe trotted up and turned to fall into step beside the other horse.

He gave her a half frown, half smile, and shook his head. “What are you doing out here, Your Grace?”

She smiled and shrugged. “You were taking too long, and I was worried.”

He shook his head again. “ _You’re_ the one the Dark One is trying to kill, and you’re worried about _me_?”

She gave him a look. “Well, it was come looking for you, or help Granny with more laundry.”

His head fell back as he let out a short laugh. “Ah, so the truth is revealed,” he said, tilting his head as he smiled at her. “You’re using me as an excuse to get out of chores.”

Belle pulled a face and then stuck her tongue out at him, which caused him to laugh again, his smile widening. She couldn’t help giggling a bit too. It was nice to see Rumplestiltskin smiling and laughing. They hadn’t had much of that when they arrived in Ormia. The ride here was shrouded in constant vigilance and paranoia over every little noise and movement in the woods. It had taken several days for the fear to subside enough that they were able to relax, even around each other.

“Well, I am sorry I took so long,” he said, directing his horse closer to the cliff’s edge. “But I wanted to ride further north and have a look around. There’s another old watch tower up the way, but it’s completely collapsed.”

She frowned. “Oh? Was it like this one?”

“No, it was one of those fire towers,” he explained. “The ones that burn at night so ships can see the shoreline.”

She smiled. “I read about those once, in a story about pirates and buried treasure. Seemed like a lot of work compared to the mirrors in the lighthouses we have now.”

“Pirates?” he asked cautiously, trying not to let his mind wander back to his wife. “Aren’t they, usually, wanted criminals?”

Her head tilted in thought for a moment, her lips twisting that way he’d come to recognize as meaning she was trying to find the right way to say what she wanted to say.

“Well, these were more misunderstood I guess,” she said, thoughtfully. “There really wasn’t much piracy either. It was more like an adventure on the high seas.”

“On a boat full of criminals,” he added, fighting a smirk.

She gave him another look and they continued on, following the coastline back to the forest. They stopped a few yards back from the edge of the cliff, close enough to the tree line that the wind wasn’t as biting, and looked out over the rolling seas, the sound of the crashing water mingling with the wind.

Belle sighed. “Still nothing from my father?”

She asked, but she already knew the answer. They wouldn’t still be standing here if there had been news.

“Nothing.” Rumplestiltskin looked down for a second, and then at her, shaking his head. “Maybe -,” he started, and then paused, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say.

“Maybe we should go back?” she finished for him.

He sighed. “Yes, maybe.”

The wind chose that moment to swirl and bring a misting of ocean spray over them. Belle turned her face into it and inhaled deeply, her eyes closing for a moment. Rumplestiltskin watched as her hair lifted and fluttered, her cloak billowing out around her, the wind shaking out the curls that she’d gathered at the back of her hair and secured with pins that morning. For a moment her face was serene, her lips curved at the corners into a slight smile. She looked beautiful, and happy, and it made his chest hurt when he breathed though he didn’t really know why.

Then she sighed and looked down at her gloved hands where they rested with the reins on the pommel of her saddle. Her head turned and she caught him looking out of the corner of her eye and looked at him fully. She held his gaze for a few seconds, until he was sure his face had flushed as red. Abruptly she looked away and stared out at the rolling sea.

“I think we should wait,” she said finally, her eyes still fixed out over the water. “We should have made it to the Duke’s estate by now, and they should have sent word that we haven’t arrived. My father will look for me, and it would be best to stay in one place so I can be found.”

She looked at him then, her lips pressed together, and shrugged. 

He frowned. “How will he know where to look? It’s a big kingdom, Princess.”

“Ruby knows where we are,” she replied. Then she pulled out the medallion from under her shirt and held it up, letting it twirl on the chain between her fingers. “This was hers. She gave it to me so I could show it to Lady - _Granny_ , so she would know who I was and that we could be trusted.”

Rumplestiltskin’s frowned deepened and he reached out tentatively to touch the necklace and hold it steady. Then he pulled his hand back and she tucked the medallion away again. He swallowed, trying not to watch as her fingers pushed the necklace down her shirt and between her -

He looked out at the ocean and blew out a breath. Her plan was one that he couldn’t really find fault with, and, if he was honest, that also made him just a teeny bit happy. Anything that meant he could spend more time in Princess Belle’s presence was just fine with him, even if they were meeting shady men on the side of the road and being shot at with arrows.

She looked at him again, expectantly, and he nodded. “Then we’ll stay.”

Belle smiled and they both prodded their horses to move, guiding them back through the forest to the village.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin looked around and around.

He was in a forest, he thought. There were trees looming over him, their canopy so dense he couldn’t see the sky. The shadows crept close and surrounded him, his heart thrummed in his chest as he looked around frantically for Belle. He knew she was there, or she had been. But now she wasn’t and he all but shook with terror at what might happen to her. He called out her name, but there was nothing but the chirp of crickets, the skittering of nocturnal animals, and the distant the howl of a wolf.

Then there was someone - some _thing_ \- behind him.

He turned and saw a flash of light reflecting off a pair of eyes, glowing an eerie green. Gasping, he stumbled backwards, banging his shoulder against a tree and nearly falling over. The eyes drew closer and a harsh, rasping laugh seemed to come from them. He turned again, starting running but suddenly the eyes were in front of him and he skidded to a stop. The laugh came again and he knew without a doubt who it came from.

 _The Dark One_.

He tried to cry out, but though his mouth was open there was no sound coming out. He took a step back and fell, down and down, blackness all around him. He seemed to fall forever a wordless scream sucking the air from his lungs. Above him the cackling laughter and glowing, evil eyes of the Dark One.

Rumplestiltskin’s body jerked. His arm flung out to the side, making his hand hit the small side table next to the bed.

He winced and hissed, pulling his arm back and cradling his hand, eyeing his knuckles and knowing there’d be a bruise later. Waiting for his breathing to slow and his heart to stop pounding, he pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. The dream was already fading from his memory, much as the others had, but the theme was the same. He was lost in a dark forest or a cave, being watched or chased. Sometimes it was the Dark One or the dragon he’d slain, complete with a bloody, gaping hole in its chest, other times it was just some nameless evil he couldn’t see. Although he was afraid, the worst was knowing the Princess was in trouble and that he couldn’t get to her.

At least this time he hadn’t heard her screaming.

He shivered and rubbed at his head, feeling the beginning of a headache. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, he got up and dressed in a loose shirt and breeches, sitting on the end of the bed to tug on his boots.

This early in the morning it wasn’t necessary to bother with his doublet, the only other person who might be awake would be Mrs. Lucas. He frowned as he started down the back stairs. Yesterday Belle had called her _Lady_ , hadn’t she? Was that a slip from living a life at court where everyone was titled, or something more? He still didn’t know much about how Belle had come by this village or Granny Lucas, or what her maid Ruby had to do with anything. That medallion she’d been wearing had seemed familiar though, but he couldn’t place it.

The dream had obviously muddled his mind.

A howling wolf was a common motif that he was sure he’d seen many times in passing, yet he wondered all the same. He wanted to ask Belle about it, and many other questions besides, but they hadn’t really had much opportunity to talk. Belle had been keeping to her room when she wasn’t helping Granny, while he rode out every day to look for signs of life or a message at the guard tower. It took the better part of the morning, but it was good to exercise the horses, and himself. 

“Good morning,” came a soft, sleepy voice.

Rumplestiltskin turned and smiled to find Belle already sitting at the small table with a cup of tea and bowl of porridge in front of her. She was still in her nightgown, with stockings, slippers, and a robe covering her, but he felt his face heat all the same.

“Good morning,” he echoed. “Did you sleep well?”

One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You?” she asked, lifting her cup to sip at the hot tea.

His eyebrows lifted in answer. “The same.”

Granny came down the stairs at that moment, frowning and carrying a basket of linens for the laundry.

“You two are up early,” she commented, moving swiftly past the table to dump the laundry in the large metal basin.

Belle shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep anymore.”

“Good morning,” Rumplestiltskin said, smiling at Granny.

She gave him a look, up and down, as she seemed to frequently do, and then nodded. “Morning. You riding out again today?”

He nodded. “If My Lady wants me to,” he replied, glancing to Belle as he sat down with his own bowl and cup.

“Well, perhaps Your Lady might consider getting some proper accommodations if you’re going to be staying a while.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned, looking sideways at Belle and then back to Granny. “How do you mean?”

Belle seemed to curl in on herself, and picking up her cup, holding it wrapped in her hands as she sat back in the chair. She didn’t look at him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Granny straightened with her hands on her hips and looked at the two of them before shaking her head. “Look, no one stays in this place long unless they live here. You two have already been here over a fortnight. People’ll start talkin’.”

She wagged a finger at them while she talked and fetched herself some tea and porridge, drizzling it with a good spoonful of honey.

Rumplestiltskin sighed and frowned again. “If people talk that might mean someone will talk to the wrong person.”

Belle looked down at her tea, thoughtfully. “But who would they tell? No one comes through here.”

Granny looked up, her eyebrows raised. “Until your little war starts.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled ruefully and nodded. “The ships,” he said, looking at Granny, letting his head drop when her head tilted knowingly.

“What ships?” Belle asked. She wondered if she had once again been naive and foolish to think they could be safe here, or anywhere.

“When the snows start,” he explained, leaning forward to rest his arms and elbows on the table, “it gets hard to march soldiers all the way from Estoria up to Avonlea proper, and then on to the border with Rhardollan after that.”

Belle made a little oh sound and bit her bottom lip.

“Near the mountains you can see several feet of snow overnight,” he continued. “Not fun to travel in or try to make camp.”

“So they’ll send ships up the coast,” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin and Granny nodded.

“The last time there was a good war that bay was full of ships,” Granny said, gesturing with her spoon in the general direction of the inlet. “They were passing by all day and night.”

Belle swallowed. That had been the Ogre Wars. Soldiers had been brought up the coast and let out on the leeward side of the mountains. She’d been to the northern coast once and had seen the massive docks they’d built to accommodate the armada from Estoria. Many of them were still standing, despite the vicious storms that often plagued the north seas.

“Ships mean people,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Ships stopping to resupply mean people coming to the village, and merchants coming here to sell to them.”

Granny reach out and squeezed Belle’s shoulder. “War is profitable, Belle. My inn will be full, no doubt, but there’s all kinds of people who will pass through here. And most of ‘em you can’t trust as far as you can toss ‘em.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled a bit and nodded.

Belle took a breath. “So what do we do?”

Granny stood up and took their bowls to wash. “There’s a cottage on the north edge of the village,” she said. “It’s not big but it’ll do fine if there’s just the two of you.”

Rumplestiltskin startled a bit and stared at the old woman. The two of them? 

“What?” he asked. “The two of us?”

Belle’s eyes went wide. “ _Together_?”

Granny turned back to them and shook her head. “Yes, the two of you. Yes, together.” She threw up her hands and crossed to the laundry, hefting up the basin to take outside and fill with water. “Those who know you’re here already think you’re married anyway.”

Belle squeaked and then pressed a hand over her mouth. She looked at Rumplestiltskin and saw he’d gone pale.

“But -,” Rumplestiltskin started. “The Princess _is_ married.”

Granny sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m not saying you have to _get_ married. Just pretend.” She looked between the two of them and shook her head. “Pretend and lay low. Blend in, so no one who comes through here is the wiser. Once the soldiers start coming through here, we’ll have a chance to send a message to your father, or even to get you down south where you were supposed to go.”

Belle let out the breath she’d been holding in and folded her shaking hands in her lap. She looked cautiously at Rumplestiltskin, who seemed to be just as unsure as she was. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been almost living together for the last two weeks, but staying across the hall from each other in an inn was entirely different to sharing the same small house, the same space, the same -

 _Bed_.

Her mind stuttered at the thought and she barely managed to hold back another squeak of surprise. Surely they wouldn’t have to do _that_?

“W-why married?” Rumplestiltskin managed. “Why can’t we say she’s my sister or niece or something?”

Granny barked out a laugh and gave him an incredulous look. “Really? A girl that pretty?” She nodded towards Belle as she spoke, and Belle blushed. 

“Either she’s attached to a man,” she said, giving both of them pointed looks. “Or she’s going to be fending off all manner of leechers. Every single man who comes through here will be throwing themselves at her feet!”

Belle felt like shrinking into her chair. She was wondering if she got close enough to the fire if she’d just melt into the floor and disappear. Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin looked like he’d rather face a dragon again, and she thought maybe she should be a little offended.

Granny scoffed. “Oh, come now,” she said. “Being married to her can’t be that bad of an idea.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at the older woman with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “No - I - that’s - I’m not -”

Granny smirked and shook her head. “It’s not forever. Just maybe until after the solstice. You’ve traveled together this far, and you’re friends, right?”

Belle nodded first and then Rumplestiltskin, but they avoided doing more than glancing at each other.

She glanced between them again. “Then what’s the problem?”

With that the old woman shrugged, picked up her laundry basin and went out the back door.

Rumplestiltskin heard Belle blow out a breath, but he kept his eyes fixed at a knot in the wood of the table. 

“Rumple?” came Belle’s voice, soft and unsure. He looked up and met her eyes. “Are you okay with this?”

He swallowed and then nodded. “If you are.” Then he reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”

She smiled at that and sighed, turning her hand over to hold his properly. “Thank you.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled back. “Of course.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Belle gave him a bemused look.

He turned his head and looked at her sideways. “What?”

She bit her lip around a smile and answered, “We’d better start packing.”

He laughed as she pushed herself up from the chair, grinning, and then followed her up the stairs, shaking his head. _Gods_ what had he gotten into.


End file.
